


And when I am called to quit this life, my feet will not spurn the sod

by Riv_ika



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Burns, F/M, Fake Character Death, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Lightning, Force-Sensitive CC-2224 | Cody, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Non-Binary CC-10/994 | Grey, Other, Padawan Kanan Jarrus, The Force Ships It, Vomiting, because i'm non-binary and i say so, platonic relationships aren't tagged bc there's a lot of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25980361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riv_ika/pseuds/Riv_ika
Summary: Cody is dying. He can feel it. For a second, when a gorgeous, terrifying woman stands above him, he thinks that he’s hallucinating in his final moments. But then, she’s healing him. Fay is too late to save any of his siblings, but she’ll do her best to save this one commander. In the process, she finds something made of darkness in the man’s head, shrieking at her touch. Could this be a lead on the Sith Lord she’s chasing?
Relationships: Alpha-17/Feemor (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody/Fay (Star Wars), CC-6454 | Ponds/Mace Windu, Depa Billaba/CC-10/994 | Grey, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Padmé Amidala/CC-1010 | Fox, Tae Diath/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 141
Kudos: 215





	1. Rako

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first of many star wars one-shots that won’t leave my brain,,,please don’t convince me to make any of them into a series because I’m a weak bitch and I probably will. I didn’t know Fay existed until I read a few fics with her and now I’m in love whoops. Title is from The Optimist, a poem by J. W. Hammond
> 
> Word Count: 2,119

Cody is dying.

He can feel it as easily as hunger or exhaustion, despite the ringing in his head.

The explosion was massive and he was at the forefront of it. No, wait, that's not right. He was the furthest from it. Why was he far away? The memory is fuzzy.

He gasps, pained, wheezing, as he tries to move, tries to speak. Fire crackles around him, smoke and dust filling the air. His lungs burn with it and he's certain there has to be something impaling him because it hurts more than just a bruised lung. Why does he know what that feels like?

The men. He was leading the men away when the explosion happened. There were mines in the ground, he didn't realise-- oh Ka'ra, how many are dead? How many--?

He tries to sit up again and stops, falling back when he hears screaming. It takes him a long moment to realise that it's his voice, _his_ screams.

"Peace."

Cody thinks he's hallucinating it, maybe imaging the voice of an angel in his final moments. *He must be, he decides when a woman appears above him, her dirty blonde-- almost brown, really-- hair falling over her shoulder to reveal a pair of slightly pointed ears. Her eyes are bright despite the frown on her face, almost eerily so.

Cody doesn't know why he's imagining some sort of Sephi woman come to take him away. He generally finds the men of the species more appealing.

"Keep breathing, Commander," she tells him, her voice light and airy, but determined in a familiar way. "You'll be able to do it without it hurting soon."

Cody coughs a little, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth and the fact that it's dripping down the side of his face, too. He can barely get in any air, but he tries to speak regardless. She can't be his imagination. No, she would've called him Kote, not by his title.

"Who--?" he tries to say.

"Shh, keep your strength," she murmurs.

He can't see what she's doing, but with a jolt of movement, the pain in his chest becomes stronger and he screams again, almost against his will. The thing that was impaling him is gone-- she removed it.

Panic rises in him. He’s going to bleed out. He’s going to die right now, right here, in this mysterious woman’s arms.

“ _Breathe_ ,” she warns again, firmly this time.

Cody wants to laugh, wants to tell her she sounds like General Kenobi with that heartbreaking last-minute, death-bed hope. He usually has nothing to hold onto, nothing but the people around him and he holds them _fiercely_. If this were him, he would refuse to accept that Cody is slipping away, not until his last breath.

What he fails to realise is that this woman isn’t denying his death because she doesn’t want it to happen; she’s denying it because she _can_ and _will_ prevent it.

He flinches as best he can when he feels her hands peel apart his armour. It’s burned into his blacks and when it pulls off his skin, he wants to scream again but makes a weak, wounded noise instead. Then, her hands on his bare chest, fingers pressed against his wounds.

“Buy me a-- a drink first,” he wheezes out, chest heaving.

Her laugh is a song, which is a stupid, cheesy thought that sounds like something out of Rex’s holofilms. Cody almost wants to bleed out just for thinking it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re _exactly_ like your Progenitor?” she asks dryly.

He snorts. “He was the rough draft. I--”

The gasp leaves his throat without his permission, a flaring heat stretching out from where her fingers meet his chest. It surrounds his entire body, cradling him in a gentle heat and almost numbing his pain.

When it reaches his head, however, a stab of pain goes through his skull. He writhes with the wave of intense pain, vision going fuzzy with tears.

“Stop, stop, stop--” he begs, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, moving to rest her hand on his face. “It’s not me.”

Her fingers are cold against the heat she’s brought on, ice-cold as they dance across his skull, seeking out the source of his pain. They stop on a spot on the right side and press firmly there. When Cody gasps again, she stops as quickly as she started and the heat recedes from that place in an instant.

“Let any Sith in your head lately?” she asks.

He shakes his head viciously. “No, no-- why?”

“We’ll worry about that later. Take a deep breath.”

Attempting _not_ to focus on that worrying tone, Cody does as she says, inhaling as deeply as he can, though it hurts. The moment he gets a good breath in, the warmth intensifies.

His eyes widen, terrified, but then it’s all _gone_ ; the warmth, the pain, the dizziness, the fuzzy vision-- everything. He flings himself up from the ground, hand flying up to his head. His fingers still come away bloody, but he can tell the wound is gone.

“How did you--?” he starts to ask her. He sees her robes and stops immediately. “I didn’t know Jedi could do that.”

She smiles. “Most can’t, I admit. It’s taken me a long time to learn. Anything still hurt?”

He pauses, assessing, before finally shaking his head. “Thank you. Did-- did anyone else--?” He hesitates to ask.

Watching her face fall is a punch to the gut. “No. I’m sorry, Commander, but you were the only one still breathing when I arrived.”

Cody shuts his eyes tightly, willing away the tears that threaten to break again.

So many siblings. So many gone, all but him. It always seems to end this way, he thinks bitterly.

“ _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,_ ” he whispers.

He jumps when the woman places her hand on his, eyes opening. “Commander, I know you’re grieving and recuperating, but the Separatists will be all over this field soon. I have a request to make of you.”

Cody frowns. “General?”

“Ah, just Master,” she corrects, her smile a little sad-- something Cody has noticed with many Jedi when he calls them that. “Master Fay.”

“Marshal Commander Cody, of the 7th Sky Corps and the 212th Attack Battalion.”

Her smile widens. “Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s lucky to have you.”

He glances at the ground, but only for a fraction of a second. “Thank you, sir, but I think it’s the other way around.” He pauses. “You said something about a request?”

“What I felt in your head...it was pure darkness,” Fay mutters.

She reaches forward again, the tips of her fingers on the very spot she’s speaking about. Cody finds himself leaning into the touch, reminded of the sharp difference between her skin and the heat that had come over him. He stops when she smiles a little at the movement, somewhat sheepish.

“Obi-Wan thinks I’m dead,” she says abruptly.

Cody blinks a few times. “Pardon?”

Fay sighs. “Myself and three other Masters faked our deaths so we could hunt the Sith Lord over Dooku. I think that they might have to do with whatever is in your head; it has the same darkness.”

He knows what she’s asking of him before she even finishes.

“You want me to come with you. If I disappear, they’ll assume I died in the explosion,” he works out.

Again, the smile that comes over her expression is sad. He’s clever, Fay thinks, like many of his siblings, but it doesn’t make her feel any better about the offer. She would never wish this fate on anyone, no matter the blood on their hands.

“I don’t want to take you from your family,” she admits, “but you may hold the key to finding the Sith Lord in your head, Commander.”

“I--” he pauses. “General Kenobi faked his death once. It felt-- It felt like the galaxy was ending. When he came back, I was...pissed. Couldn’t look at him for weeks. If I do the same thing, I don’t know if they’d forgive me.”

His thoughts drift to Rex. Rex would _kick his ass_ for even thinking of pulling a Rako Hardeen.

And what about the other commanders? After that close call with Ponds...well, Cody doesn’t think they’d be able to lose anyone.

But they could _end the war_. This is different from just catching a handful of bounty hunters trying to kill the Chancellor, this is _saving the galaxy_. What kind of soldier is Cody if he passes this up?

But what kind of soldier is he if he abandons his men?

( _Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders._ )

It’s not like he has much of a choice in this matter, though. He can’t exactly explain his miraculous survival of the explosion or the fact that he’s completely uninjured. What would he tell General Kenobi? That a long-dead Master healed him?

And how could he live knowing there was something _dark_ in his head? Not ever finding out what it was?

“I’ll come with you,” he declares finally. “I need to know what this is. If it helps end the war, I _have_ to.”

Master Fay grimaces. “You don’t have to do anything, Commander, if you don’t want--”

“I want to. I want to save my _vode_ , sir. I can’t let _this_ \--” he gestures to the chaos around them, “--happen to any more of them.”

Fay lets out a deep breath. Cody is something. He and Obi-Wan must make quite a pair.

“Alright,” she says. “You’ll have to leave the armour; it stands out too much.”

He nods and takes her offered hand, standing with her. “I want to leave something for my brother, Rex. He won’t say a word, I trust him.”

“And I trust you, Commander,” she says with a smile. “I’ll contact the other Masters and give you a moment.”

“Sure, sir.” After a second, he clears his throat. “And, uh, Cody is fine.”

Fay hums. “Cody? You don’t have to call me sir. Just Fay. Or Master, if it physically hurts you to keep from using titles.”

Cody can’t help but laugh. “Thank you, Master. I’m glad we understand each other.”

* * *

Rex feels sick standing over the explosion site.

“Rexster? Rex?”

He snaps back into attention, finding a worried Ahsoka squinting at him. “Sir?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t come out as broken as he is.

Her grimace tells him that it does.

“We don’t know that he’s down there, Rex,” she says softly.

Rex swallows roughly. “Yeah.”

He’s trying to keep the hope, but it starts to fade with every step they take and every body they find. Not a single one of them made it out alive. He knows, logically, that Cody would have been at the front of the squad and the farthest from the explosion, but the damage is extensive.

“Sirs! Over here!” Jesse calls.

The sight of Cody’s armour, splattered with blood and reeking of burnt flesh, makes Rex gag. He has to rip off his helmet and duck away from the Generals, Ahsoka, and Jesse, retching.

When he returns, General Kenobi is kneeling beside the pile of displaced plastoid, grief etched on his face. He picks up a vambrace with shaking hands and lets out a weak breath. Ahsoka, meanwhile, sobs, letting General Skywalker pull her into his side.

Rex steels himself and moves toward them again, waving Jesse off when he gives him a concerned look. He kneels beside General Kenobi, who puts a hand on his shoulder.

He picks up Cody’s helmet, numb.

He can’t even find it in him to cry.

The Generals give him a long time there to think, to grieve. Jesse stays by his side, waiting and watching his six.

 _"Ni partayli, gar darasuum_ ,” Rex says, finishing the remembrance. He holds Cody’s helmet in his hands, pressing his forehead against it in a Keldabe kiss. Despite himself, he chokes out; “ _Ni partayli, vod._ ”

He opens his eyes, meaning to pull the helmet away, and stops abruptly.

There’s something carved on the bottom of Cody’s visor, in _Mando’a_. Rex frowns. That’s a new addition, he’s pretty certain, at least since the last time he saw his brother.

It takes everything Rex has in him not to sob with relief when he translates it.

Cody is a _stupid bastard_ and he loves his stupid bastard brother. He’s going to _kill him_.

Rako.

Fucking _Rako_.

“Wherever you are, I hope you know I’m gonna kick your ass when you get back,” Rex whispers to the helmet as if Cody is there with him. “And all the commanders are gonna help me.”


	2. open your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: En route to the rendezvous with the other nomadic Masters, Cody and Fay have an eventful meditation session that leads to further revelations. Meanwhile, Anakin gets some obvious observations through his thick skull thanks to his Padawan and contacts an old friend for help.
> 
> Translations: vod - sibling/brother/sister, vode - siblings/brothers/sisters (plural), N'eparavu takisit - sorry (literally: I eat my insult)  
> Word Count: 2,745

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This was GOING to be a one shot dammit but I had IDEAS and they wouldn’t go away so here we are :) If y’all have ideas for characters to be included I’d love to hear them!! I have a vague idea of Plot that goes very beyond Rex being Secretive about Cody’s Not-Death so buckle up. Anyway, I wrote this for me but please enjoy it.

Master Fay's ship is something of a surprise; a cruiser with five rooms, two freshers, and a moderately large cargo bay. She explains it away as a luxury they allow themselves-- her and her companions-- since they can't exactly return to the Temple anymore.

"Most of us haven't been to the Temple in a long time anyway," she admits with a hum, "but it's nice to have something to return to."

Cody nods silently, not sure how to respond. This is going to be his returning spot, too, he realises, grieving the thought of leaving the Negotiator behind. He shakes off the thought. He knew what he was getting into and now, facing it, he comes to the same conclusion. If the darkness in his head is the key to ending the war, nothing else matters, not even what little he has left.

Fay offers him a mostly-empty room in the cruiser, which he takes gratefully. She gives him some time to sleep off the bone-deep exhaustion of the last campaign but then approaches him with another offer.

"Have you ever meditated with a Jedi before?" she asks after he accepts, sitting down on the cold floor of the cargo bay.

He joins her, crossing his legs like he's seen the Generals and Commander do on occasion. "No, s-- Master, not really. I've seen them do it and Rex, my brother, has, but, uh, I never saw the point, to be honest."

Fay laughs. "Meditating has many benefits, but some prefer more active meditation. From what I understand, Padawan Skywalker is much the same."

"Skywalker has been knighted," Cody tells her hesitantly. "He has his own Padawan now, too."

Grief crosses Master Fay's face and he knows exactly where her train of thought is. Not only did they Knight a barely-adult Padawan, but they gave him a child of his own to raise. On the  _ battlefield _ . She sighs and, for a second, he wonders what she thinks of the Council. Skywalker has never been on good terms with them and General Kenobi respects them, but goes against their orders a little too often to be truly comfortable. Did she and her companions choose a life outside of the typical Jedi because they disagree with the Council? Or was it truly just to chase the Sith Lord? He doesn’t think he knows her enough to ask.

"Will it hurt? Like the last time?" Cody asks, changing the subject so that he doesn't have to watch her face fall again.

Her expression is thoughtful. "I can honestly say I don't know. Last time, I was...invasive, for lack of a better word, in my attempt to heal you. Simply prodding at its edges may not get the same reaction. Is that alright?"

His nod is immediate and firm. "I need to know what this is."

She smiles slightly, holding both hands out with her palms up. "I'll do what I can."

He takes her hands with a deep breath, waiting on her instruction. Meditation is supposed to be calming, right? Focusing on one's self? Cody grimaces briefly, not sure if he wants to face all his demons for the sake of a quiet moment.

"This will be simple, not a full trance," Fay reassures, able to read his face. "Just close your eyes and focus on breathing. Think about the brief impression from earlier, if you can. If not, just focus on my voice."

Cody does as she asks, taking deep breaths and remembering. The icy cold touch of her fingers on his overly warm skin is an easy memory to call up, since he can still feel her hands in his. Sighing, he remembers the stab of pain in his skull, the sharp, clear thought of  _ something isn't right-- _

Fay squeezing his hands brings him back to the present, back to the lilt of her voice.

"Meditation is a way to work through emotions, to steady yourself," she explains. "Identify what you're feeling, why you're feeling it, and what can be done about it."

Fear. He fears whatever is in his head, whoever it came from, why it's there. Cody knows-- he's  _ sure  _ of it-- that it means something, something dark for all his vode and for him. But he's already doing what he can, isn't he? He's letting Master Fay find out what's in his head and how to deal with it.

"That's it," she encourages. "Breathe, Cody."

He can  _ feel  _ her. He can feel her  _ prodding at his mind _ .

It's a jarring realisation, enough that he almost opens his eyes. But he doesn't get the chance.

Pain shoots through his skull once again and he jolts forward with a raspy cry, just barely hearing Fay's gasp. Cody's vision blurs and before he knows it he's no longer in the cargo bay.

There's darkness and ashes, stone below his feet, and a distant voice, a familiar voice.

_ "Kote, these chips--" _

_ "You're just being paranoid, vod." _

He can hear blaster fire, taste blood. And then, a dark, deep voice is hissing through a communicator;  _ "Execute Order 66." _

Darkness. Nothing but darkness, overwhelming his mind. His heart beats out of his chest and he can't help but feel sick, sick to his stomach, as someone shouts his name.

_ "CODY!" _

Cody snaps awake with a weak noise, finding that he’s collapsed onto Fay’s shoulder.

"Cody?" she asks, fear slipping into her voice. "Cody, can you hear me?"

He groans, managing a small nod as he lifts his head. "Now I can."

She sighs, relieved, and takes a moment to release her anxieties into the Force. At least, that's what he thinks she's doing.

"Thank the Force," she murmurs. "I was afraid I'd killed you."

Fay helps him up from the ground, though he stumbles, and makes a beeline for the makeshift kitchen in the ship. More accurately, she makes for the kettle in the cabinet. Tea, Cody thinks dryly. What is it with Jedi and their tea?

He flops down into a chair, letting his ringing head rest in his hands. "What the hell was that?"

Looking over at Fay, he sees that her hands tremble-- just slightly, enough that no one else would notice, but he's practised in Jedi covering up their emotions if they can't deal with them in that exact moment. Cody frowns, watching as she takes two cups and two small blue tea bags as if she isn't struggling to take a deep breath.

"My fault, I think," she says, steady as ever. Likely, she's doing that for his sake, which makes him frown deeper. "I must have created a feedback loop, pushed the pain onto you--"

Cody's eyes widened. "The pain-- you felt it, too?"

Fay grimaces, stirring the tea in one cup with one hand. "Yes. I'm so sorry, Cody--"

"I don't think that's what happened."

"Your faith is reassuring, but--"

"Fay," he interrupts, standing and crossing the room. He takes the cup from her and puts it back on the counter, taking her hands just as she did with his earlier. It'll be some sort of comfort, he hopes, some grounding element in the whirl of confusion she's working through. "You didn't do that."

She shakes her head, closing her eyes and taking a calming breath. "I must have. You almost passed out."

"It wasn't the pain," he says firmly, not sure where the certainty comes from. Somewhere, deep down, he knows it was... _ other _ . It was different. "I...saw things."

Her eyes shoot open, wide and concerned. "Saw things? A vision?"

Cody nods, not fighting it when she nudges him back toward the table, passing him a cup of steaming tea and taking the other for herself. They settle down right next to each other. He notices, with relief, that her hands have stopped shaking. She's entirely focused on him now, able to put away the jarring pain and fear from before in order to focus on their mission.

It's something he admires, really. He knows he does the same thing often enough, but after serving with Skywalker for so long, it's nice to find someone else who can do it and not slowly kill themselves like General Kenobi.

"Tell me about the vision."

He exhales deeply, letting the warmth of his cup sink into his hands. "I heard someone...a vod, I think, telling me about...chips? I think-- it had to be a commander or Rex. They called me Kote."

"Kote?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and her mug. "Glory?"

Cody's smile is somewhat sheepish. "My first name. The Rough Draft gave it to me.” He watches amusement flicker in her expression and snorts. “Only the commanders and Rex use it still.”

“Was there anything else?”

“It was mostly noise, I think. Blasters, someone shouting my name. I could-- I could taste blood and ashes,” he says. Admitting it to her settles the nausea he’d felt. “And someone said--”

The words catch in his throat.

_ Execute Order 66 _ .

It’s like something claws at his throat, chokes the voice from him, and keeps him from saying it. But it’s not  _ vicious _ , not malevolent. It’s like-- like it’s  _ protecting him _ and he doesn’t know how to explain it.

“I can’t say it.” The admission is quiet and raspy. “I can’t--”

“That’s alright,” Fay reassures immediately. “You don’t have to.”

Cody shakes his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I--  _ I can’t _ . Something won’t let me.”

A frown crosses her face. “I see...Cody, tell me, do you know what déjà vu is?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, bitterly amused. “Rex got it from his stupid holofilms.” He remembers Rex’s off-handed explanation fondly and the noogie that had followed shortly after.

“And have you experienced it before?”

It’s his turn to frown, though he nods. “That’s why he was telling me. I get it a lot, I think, but I can’t always remember  _ where _ I’ve seen it before. Rex thought I’d dreamed it, maybe.”

Fay hums, squinting as she thinks. Cody tries to ignore the way his ears go red while she examines his face. Something tells him that she’s looking beyond; General Kenobi does the same thing sometimes, like he’s looking into your soul. Ahsoka told him once that Jedi could feel a person’s presence, see their  _ light _ , if they paid enough attention. He still isn’t sure that he knows what she means.

“May I?” Fay finally asks, holding out her hands again.

Swallowing roughly, Cody takes them. “Yes, sir--” he flinches. “Sorry.”

She waves him off and closes her eyes, focusing. Again, he can feel her, like a gentle hand prodding around his head and it’s almost frightening. But it’s...bright, in a way, enough that he doesn’t jump away. It’s comforting.

Her laugh  _ does _ make him jump.

“Master Fay?” he questions, almost afraid to ask.

“My dear commander,” she says, “I do believe you’re Force-sensitive.”

* * *

Rex is getting too predictable, Anakin thinks amusedly as he dodges another graceless lunge. They’re sparring for maybe the third or fourth time since they left the planet’s surface. Usually Rex gets better and better the more they work on things, but he’s actually tripping up today. Anakin should be worried, really, but maybe the captain’s just having an off day.

“C’mon, Rex,” he taunts, “you can do better than that.”

The clone steadies his stance, letting out a sharp breath. Anakin gets ready for another strike, but blanks when a flash of anger floods his training bond with Ahsoka. Before he can whirl around to look at her, Rex is flying at him.

They go down in a tangle of trooper blacks and Jedi robes, with the person in the latter groaning and tapping the mat as soon as he gets the chance.

“N'eparavu takisit,” he mutters, half an apology.

Rex just grumbles and gets off him before offering a hand. Anakin takes it with a grunt, clambering to his feet. Then, he turns on Ahsoka.

“What was  _ that? _ ”

Her arms are crossed and her montrals twitch irritably. The glare she’s levelling him with is going to be very intimidating in a few years, he thinks with a twinge of pride, but shoves the thought away considering she’s glaring at  _ him _ . Rude. What did he even do? He gives her a look echoing the question he can’t ask, but she just growls.

“Master, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks impatiently.

“Sure,” he says, but she’s already halfway out the door.

Anakin glances back at Rex, who shrugs unknowingly and goes to rewrap his knuckles for another round with a punching bag. The young Knight sighs. Great. He’s going into a talk with his angry teenager without backup.

He follows Ahsoka out of the room, frowning when she stops in the hall instead of taking this somewhere private. Luckily, the place is nearly deserted.

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” she hisses through sharp teeth.

Anakin scoffs. “What do you mean? I’m sparring with Rex.”

“No, you’re sparring with a man who  _ just _ lost his brother!”

He blanks. “Okay…? It’s getting his frustrations out. I don’t see the issue, Snips.”

Her face falls and immediately he’s struck with guilt. What isn’t he seeing here? What did he miss? He can’t help but feel like he’s just disappointed his Padawan.

“You haven’t seen it, Master?” she asks, voice desperate. “He’s  _ throwing himself _ into the field. He’s acting like everything is normal, but it’s  _ not! _ It’s like he isn’t even processing that Cody’s--”

Ahsoka’s voice breaks and with it goes Anakin’s heart. He takes two steps forward to place a hand on her shoulder. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to ground her.

She takes a deep breath. “Rex isn’t... _ grieving _ , Master. I’m worried about him.”

“I know,” Anakin murmurs. He really should’ve noticed earlier.

He’s not... _ great _ with people or emotions in general, but he does  _ try _ . He tries to think about what it would be like, for him, if he lost Obi-Wan, then immediately digs a grave for that image and buries it. Anakin would rather  _ die _ than think about that bantha shit again.

“I’ll be more careful, Snips,” he promises quietly. 

Ahsoka’s smile is small and sad and Anakin wants nothing more than to wrap her up in 30 blankets and put on her favourite holofilm. Instead, he tugs her into a hug and sends reassurance down their bond. The pleased hum he gets back might as well be a visit to Dex’s with how it comforts him.

(Sometimes-- lots of times-- he worries about Ahsoka, about what she’s learning from him. Knowing that he can at least make her smile gets him through his fear.)

“I’m gonna go make sure he gets something to eat,” Ahsoka declares, pulling away from him. “D’you wanna come?”

He shakes his head, wheels turning inside. “Nah, I’m okay. Gotta make a call.”

Ahsoka grins, all sharp Togruta teeth, and it makes the apex predator in Anakin’s very human genes flinch. She skirts around him back toward the training room with a jaunty salute, but calls back: “Tell Padmé I say hi!”

“I will!” he says cheerfully.

Shaking his head, he makes a beeline for his private quarters. That girl is too sharp for her own good sometimes. He only hopes she never says something like that around Obi-Wan or another Council member. If Obi-Wan thought he and Padmé were...well, he’d probably cry or something and Anakin is  _ not _ prepared for tears. He’s  _ never _ prepared for tears.

Once he’s in his quarters, Anakin sends out the call and is shocked when she answers almost immediately.

“Ani!” his best friend says, breathless. “Are you okay? You never call me during a campaign.”

He smiles, the sight of her an unbelievable comfort. Padmé is one of a kind, really, and he always thought he could love her, if things were different. But they aren’t. He’s a Jedi, she’s a Senator, and they don’t quite...fit. He’s a pain in the ass, for one thing, and she deserves much better. Still, it’s good to have her on his side after a rough day. She looks after him as best she can when he’s on Coruscant and, Force, is he grateful for it.

“I’m okay, pinky swear,” he teases. “I just need your help with something. Oh, and Ahsoka says hi.”

Padmé’s smile is wide and relieved. “Tell her I said hi back. What do you need, Anakin?”

“You’re still dating that Guard commander, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't wanna hear a single complaint about 'straight ships' either EVERYONE here is a raging bisexual unless specifically stated otherwise. ALSO pls don't expect weekly updates or anything,,,this will happen when it happens and no sooner bc my brain is useless lmao


	3. to these diverging paths before us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Resolute is under attack-- because clearly even a drop off at Coruscant can’t go well-- and Rex finds himself fighting a very pissed off grandfather with a deadly glow stick. Meanwhile, Cody barely has time to process his apparent Force-sensitivity before he and Fay arrive at their destination.
> 
> Translations: vod - sibling/brother/sister, jetii - Jedi (singular), jetiise - Jedi (plural), vode - siblings/brothers/sisters  
> Word Count: 2,342

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I accidentally got into Harry Potter again. Anyway, this is the first pair I’ve ever written that doesn’t have a fic on ao3 other than mine, which is...wow. I WILL ROW THIS POOL NOODLE MYSELF IF I HAVE TO (also just pretend that fay waited days into their journey to do the meditation with Cody ok I’m too lazy to go back and change it and travel times in this universe are fucking wack).

Ahsoka yelps and falls right into Rex when the ship trembles.

“Kark!” she says and at least 20 troopers in the vicinity say something along the lines of ‘Language!’

Rex stumbles to his feet and helps her up, too, just as alarms start to wail. The mess hall dissolves into chaos as everyone reports to their battle stations. Without even a single shared look, Rex and Ahsoka are racing to the bridge.

“Master Obi-Wan!” Ahsoka shouts as they enter.

He’s standing over a holoprojection of the ship, with two points bright, flashing red. Rex examines them quickly as the two Jedi begin to speak, General Kenobi’s hand not leaving his chin.

“What’s going on?”

“Dooku, I’m afraid. Two of his ships penetrated our shields without setting off any alarms and then proceeded to _ram themselves_ into the hull. We have two ships worth of droids boarding us and I haven’t the slightest idea where he himself is,” he explains grimly. “Rex, can you give Anakin back-up in this sector? Ahsoka and I will take the other.”

“Yes, sir,” he says shortly. “Good luck.”

“May the Force be with you,” both Jedi chirp, smiling despite themselves.

With a roll of his eyes, Rex takes off, grabbing a squad of uncertain shinies on the way. He finds Anakin neck-deep in a squad of droids-- big surprise-- and jumps into action.

“Rex! Dooku went this way!”

They duck into another hallway without any droids or troopers, where Rex nearly gets his head taken off by a red lightsaber. Luckily, he finds the sense to duck.

“Skywalker,” Dooku says dryly. “I should’ve known it would be _you_.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Count,” Anakin sasses, snorting. “I know you and Obi-Wan love your banter, but I’m really getting-- _tired of it!_ ”

He throws himself at the Sith Lord, lightsabers clashing and sparking. Rex fires off as many shots as he can manage, trying to split Dooku’s attention, as ineffective as it is. It earns him a growl from Dooku, who flings a hand in his direction.

Rex cries out as the Force hits him and he _soars_ through the air, slamming into the wall with a pained gasp.

“Kark--” he hisses, head swimming.

_He forgot to put his fucking helmet on_.

_“Vod, if I weren’t around, you’d probably lose your own head.”_

He gives a wheezing, rueful laugh as Dooku whirls on Anakin, whose eyes go wide.

“Rex!” he cries, but it’s distant...quiet.

He probably has another concussion. Kix is going to kill him, he thinks with the desperation of a man who’s been in the medbay three times in the last two weeks.

A gut-wrenching scream from Anakin breaks him from his daze just briefly.

The young man is writhing on the ground as Dooku’s lightning encompasses him, _burning_ him. Rex feels sick, the same sort of sickness he had approaching Cody’s empty armor. He _can’t_ be watching General Skywalker die, bathed in purple light and face twisted in pain. Summoning what resolve he can manage, he stumbles to his feet and lifts his blaster.

“Don’t _touch him_ \--” he spits, firing a shot at Dooku.

Dooku _roars_ when it hits his shoulder and stops his barrage at the General, instead turning it to Rex. “Insolent!” he hisses. “I should _kill you_ \--”

Rex can’t breathe, he can’t breathe and the world is fading and--

The last thing he sees is Dooku dragging Anakin away with fury in his eyes.

* * *

Force-sensitive.

_Force-sensitive._

Cody is still gawking. It’s been ten minutes and he can’t feel his jaw, but he can’t-- for the life of him-- pick it up off the ground.

Fay is patient, patient and _amused_ , as she drinks her tea and waits for him to finish panicking. Processing is, perhaps, too nice a word for the mental breakdown he’s having.

“ _What_ ,” he says bluntly, less of a question than a cry for help.

It’s not the first time he’s said it either.

“I’m surprised no one’s noticed it before,” Fay admits, finally speaking so that maybe he doesn’t have to let her words swim through his head again. “It would manifest in increased awareness, heightened instincts, and even mild premonitions like you seem to have experienced. It’s not uncommon.”

“In _normal people_ ,” Cody splutters. “Not clones!”

“Oh, Cody,” she breathes out, all grace and understanding, “just because they haven’t found any doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You’re living, breathing proof.”

He opens his mouth, shuts it, and pauses. Then, he opens it again. “Are you _sure?”_

She smiles a little at the way his voice cracks, but nods. “Certain. I should have seen it before. I think the darkness in your head is making it difficult to sense. Chips. You mentioned something about chips?”

Cody’s nod is uncertain. “A vod telling me about them, I think.”

“Maybe…”

Before he knows it, she’s resting a hand on his head again, right where that sharp pain would emerge. Her frown is thoughtful, calculating.

“Do you think it’s-- a _chip_ in my head?” he asks, not sure he wants the answer.

“I don’t know. But we can certainly find out,” she mutters.

Cody shakes his head as if shaking himself awake. “Hang on. _Force-sensitive?_ I’m a karking jetii?”

Fay laughs, that sweet and sorrowful sound. “Not quite, but it does give you the option to become one.”

“I thought there was an age limit,” he says doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

She hums almost mischievously, bringing her mug up to her lips. “Only for Temple Jedi and even they have exceptions. I could train you if you wanted.”

He grimaces. “If you call me Padawan, I might shoot myself.”

“Of course not,” she concedes, eyes bright. “It’d be...unofficial, seeing as we’re legally dead. But it would do you good, I think.”

Cody thinks it over, squinting as he does. On one hand, he would never live this down; not with his Generals, not with the Commander, not with his vode, _anyone_. On the other…

“Do I get a lightsaber?”

Fay tips her head. “If you wish and if you can pass the trial to do so. But being a Jedi is much more than a sword of light. I find my lack of one is a good reminder of it.”

His eyes widen to the size of moons. “You don’t have a lightsaber? In a _war?_ _"_

“No, I don’t,” she sighs, grief coming over her face. Cody regrets the question immediately. “I’ve witnessed much in my lifetime, Cody, far more than many Jedi. The Force has kept me young for longer than I’ve deserved and because of it, I’ve seen more suffering than any sentient being should. When you see what a lightsaber can do...what it can _become_ to someone who feels they have nothing else...there’s no going back. At least there wasn’t for me. Too many of my brothers and sisters have died at the hands of one.”

Cody nods solemnly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s alright,” she says, sitting up straighter. “I know that you’ll feel at ease with one in your hands and I think it would serve you well. We’ll see about getting you one.”

He smiles slightly. “I grew up with a blaster in my hand, Master Fay, I can’t help it.” He pauses. “When you said the Force kept you young--?”

She laughs, brighter now, he thinks, and he wonders with slight horror when he’d begun to see the _light_ that Ahsoka described. “It’s not polite to ask a lady’s age, Cody, but I will tell you that my Master still lives, so I’m not quite _ancient_.”

Cody’s eyebrows meet his hairline. “Who’s your Master?”

“ _That_ is a story for another day,” she declares when a beeping echoes from the cockpit. “We’re coming out of hyperspace.”

He follows her dutifully into the cockpit, watching a planet appear in the viewport with curiosity. It’s a desert planet, he realises with dread. _Great_.

“Tatooine,” Fay huffs. “Not my favourite planet, but it’s a haven for those who don’t want to be found.”

“It’s a haven for womp rats and slavers,” Cody scoffs.

She doesn’t snort, as undignified as that is, but she does smile. “Luckily, Master Diath has a network of friendly faces here. One of them has offered us shelter while we meet.”

“In return for…?” he asks, far too well versed in these sorts of things.

“Our help,” she finishes vaguely. “With what, I’m not sure. Beru Whitesun is many things but predictable is not one of them. I’ll leave the guessing to Knol.”

Cody nods, then pauses. “Do you, uh, have anything else I can wear? I’m not exactly inconspicuous.”

Fay’s grin is _devilish_.

* * *

Tatooine is pretty much what Cody expects; dry, sandy, and kriffing _awful_. Fay only snickers at his irritation, which leaves him more pouty than anything else.

He’s wearing some sort of modified version of traditional robes; sleeveless and with far fewer layers than usual, which he’s grateful for. The sleeveless thing is a pity, but at least Fay gave him a brown robe to cover them up. He remembers the last time he trained with General Kenobi in the barracks in a civvie tank top...Rex will never let him live down the number of concussions the medbay reported.

(Fox still calls him Biceps sometimes, just to make him choke.)

Fay manages to find him some sort of scarf, too, which she says also belongs to Master Knol Ven’nari, like the rest of the get-up does. It’s grey and thin enough not to suffocate him, but just right for covering up his face. If bounty hunters caught sight of a clone on the Outer Rim…

“This way,” Fay murmurs, drawing his attention back to the present.

She has her arm tucked through his as if they’re refugees simply passing through. It’s a good story and common enough, but Cody is certain she’s using some sort of Force trick to keep people from looking their way. (General Kenobi is plenty good at it, Cody remembers, though not in a pinch. Skywalker, on the other hand, isn’t one for _subtlety_. At all.) 

Cody is trying to keep his mind on the mission, on their purpose, but it’s hard to focus with her standing as close as she is. He’s used to touch from other vode, mostly the commanders and Rex, but no one else. It’s odd to have another person stand so close, much less have a hold on his arm. It’s nice, though, in a way that leaves him cursing at himself. He sounds like an anxious shiny, what with this developing... _crush_ on a general. Still. He can’t help but remember the way she healed him, how _certain_ she was that she would, like impending death wasn’t even an obstacle. The sheer power that had flooded through him from her fingertips is fresh in his mind and now he’s hyper-aware of her touch, his skin almost _tingling_ with it.

(The Generals were reckless, more reckless than any sane person, and Fay is similar, he knows, but...but she’s more reckless because her limits are _far beyond_ any normal person. She’s reckless because she knows she has nothing to fear, not from cockiness or general hard-headedness, but because she’s _competent_. Is that Cody’s type? Competent people? Wow. He’s...really been deprived.)

Fay leads the way into a hangar, this one meant for speeders and land vehicles. Just as they turn into the building, Cody’s head rings with alarm.

He shoves the Master behind him and draws a vibroblade from his belt. A very similar blade finds its way to his neck, giving him just a second to do the same to the assailant, a figure in a grey robe.

“Now _that_ was the Force, not your instincts,” Fay says from behind him as if someone doesn’t hold his life in their hands.

Cody opens his mouth to inform her of this, but his assailant pulls the vibroblade back and speaks first. “Fay. I didn’t expect your friend to be Force-sensitive.”

“Neither did we,” she notes amusedly.

Cody removes his arm from the assailant’s throat but doesn’t put the vibroblade away, just to be safe. He glances between Fay and the man, whose face is completely shadowed by the hood of his robe, a typical Jedi move.

“Cody, Master Jon Antilles,” Fay introduces. “Jon, this is Commander Cody.”

“Pleasure,” the man says, offering a hand.

Cody eyes it warily, but twirls the vibroblade-- a move he mimicked from the Rough Draft and taught Rex out of pure spite-- and holsters it in his belt. Then, he takes Jon’s hand, surprised when the man clasps his wrist in the traditional Mandalorian way.

“Apologies if I presumed,” Jon murmurs, almost sheepish, “but Obi-Wan mentioned the vode had picked up some Mandalorian traditions.”

He nods hesitantly. “Thank you.” Then, he pauses, uneasy. He doesn’t want to ask the man to show his face, but he can’t help but be curious, not to mention wary.

As if reading his thoughts-- and he very well could be, because Jetiise-- Master Antilles draws back his hood, revealing a scarred but handsome face. His eyes are pale enough that it’s jarring, at least for a human, and a perfect juxtaposition to his dark, almost shaggy hair. He’s attractive, Cody thinks, in a dark-mysterious-hobo kind of way. It takes everything in him not to smirk, too, thinking of how quick Rex would fall in love with this one.

“Knol and Nico are already at the rendezvous,” Jon says quietly, mostly directed at Fay. “I was waiting for you.”

“It’s appreciated, Jon,” comes Fay’s soft reply. “Let’s join them.”

As they start toward a speeder, her hand makes a passing touch on Jon’s shoulder, a gentle, fond sort of movement that vaguely reminds Cody of General Skywalker with Commander Tano. He quirks an eyebrow at Fay when Jon can’t see it, asking a silent question. She smiles, only sending him a look that lets him know she’ll explain later.

Taking a deep breath, Cody follows her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 10 pm and I just finished this and it has not been beta'ed (?) so like,,,if there's mistakes let me know pls, including Mando'a words being italicized, sometimes I do that out of habit. also YES that RexJon tease will hopefully become something as will this Anakin-being-kidnapped plotline. this is going somewhere i think  
> (PS. If you left a comment and haven't seen it-- I have comment moderation on! I got a few comments for suggestions/questions about plot that I want to save and don't want to spoil for anyone so I'm keeping them invisible for now lmao. If you don't see your comment, that's probably why. <3)


	4. falling apart to build it better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex has a serious talk with Fox, who won’t let him leave the medbay until he has a mental breakdown. (Which is going to be a problem, because Cody isn’t dead, so he has no reason to grieve.) Cody, halfway across the galaxy, is introduced to the rest of Fay’s companions, including someone who likes Skywalker a little too much.
> 
> Translations: vod - sibling, vode - siblings, osik - shit, di’kut - idiot, Jetiise - Jedi (plural)  
> Word Count: 3,391

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took one look at my planning whiteboard and basically asked “How many of these fuckers can I fit in this story without it getting cluttered?” The answer is, apparently, more than I thought possible. Including a 212th medic OC that I just,,,invented?? Out of nowhere??? Yeah I’m confused, too. Anyway, Beru lives with Owen since Cliegg died recently, but they’re not married yet, for those of you who want Details. Also, a few characters mentioned in this chapter are going to show up later, so keep an eye out...

Rex wakes up to the telltale smell of bacta and sound of his medic sighing and  _ panics _ . He flings himself up from bed, which is clearly a mistake because his side  _ aches _ instantly. He gasps, pained and raspy. When a hand touches his shoulder, he jumps.

“Easy, vod,” says a brother. “Take this.”

Rex takes the offered glass of water, drinking it down gratefully. Then, he gives the brother a side glance and grimaces.

Fox doesn’t smile at the usual reaction, his face completely blank. In fact, Rex would call it sad, but Fox doesn’t express emotion, not in the range of shinies or anyone who isn’t part of the Guard, the one exception possibly being Cody.

He remembers with a jolt, feeling sick to his stomach. “Fuck. The general--”

“MIA,” Fox says sharply. “ _ Alive _ . Otherwise, Dooku would’ve taunted us.”

He lets out a deep, relieved breath. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days, give or take. Kix had you sedated all the way back to Coruscant.”

Rex reminds himself to buy his medic a drink later, if he ever gets the chance and if Kix ever lets him out of the medbay again. Running into a battle without his bucket-- what kind of di’kut is he?

He’s broken from his thoughts when Fox sighs and drags up a chair. He sits down with a heavy weight on his shoulders, which is about the only warning Rex has for the serious conversation that’s about to happen. The captain only remembers at this moment, at his first words, that the rest of the universe thinks Cody’s dead. It almost makes him laugh, really. As if Rex is going to die  _ after _ Cody, as if Cody can’t survive the end of the known universe with so much as a shrug.

“Commander Tano is worried about you.”

“I hate you,” Rex says immediately. That’s  _ cold _ , using her like that. He knows as well as anyone that Rex would do anything for that kid, even pull himself together. “Where do you even hear that shit?”

Fox sighs again. “Skywalker got over himself and asked Padmé to ask me to talk to you before he got his dumb ass kidnapped. I would thank you because I can hold this over his head for the rest of eternity, but I’m not going to because I don’t wanna fucking be here.”

“Neither do I. Great, we’ve settled that; leave.”

Rex doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to talk about his not-dead-brother, about how he should be grieving, how he should be bawling his eyes out every night before he goes to sleep.

More importantly, he doesn’t want Fox to catch onto the fact that he’s  _ not _ .

“Damn it, Rex, you’ve gotta stop,” his brother growls. “You’re going to get yourself  _ killed _ and you might want that, but nobody else does, damn you.”

“Shut up, it’s none of your business,” Rex spits.

If he pisses Fox off enough, maybe he’ll leave well enough alone and Rex can keep working, can keep doing his job without people  _ worrying about him _ . He can’t very well pretend to mourn-- not with  _ his _ acting skills-- so it’d be much better for him if everyone else pretends like he  _ isn’t _ .

“You  _ know it is _ , you karking dumbass,” Fox snaps. “Because I have to sign the certificate when you kick the fucking bucket! And at this rate, I’ll be there to watch you do it!”

Rex almost,  _ almost _ flinches, but then freezes. “What? What the hell does that mean?”

His brother takes the distraction gratefully, though Rex knows full well that he’ll get back to it-- and with a passion. “They want me to take Cody’s place temporarily. I have the training and the title. It’s apparently enough for them.”

“The bastards couldn’t wait, could they?” he asks bitterly.

“It was a direct order from the Chancellor,” Fox continues, with more fury in his voice than Rex has ever heard. Kark, he knows his brother hates the Chancellor, but he didn’t realise he hates him  _ that much _ . “Because Skywalker getting  _ kidnapped _ is worth more time and resources than dealing with the loss of the most important vod in the GAR.”

“Do they have any leads?”

The flat look he gets does make him flinch.

“You’re not going anywhere until you have a mental breakdown,” he declares. “You have that shit on the field and I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Have  _ you _ had a mental breakdown yet?” Rex shoots back.

Fox goes silent, which is...more concerning than anything else. “I got word to Blackout, Bly, and the Kamino Commanders, who had Grey with them. Gree and Monnk got the general announcement before I could contact them and Wolffe was here when I found out.”

Rex counts names in his head. “Ponds?”

The brief moment of silence stings.  _ Kriff. This is going to break his heart. _

“The 91st is on comm-lockdown, chasing some sort of deep crime syndicate lead on Tatooine at the behest of the Chancellor. Again. We can’t contact them until they’ve finished their mission,” he says.

“I fucking hate that guy,” Rex mutters. He’s joked about it plenty of times before, but he really means it this time. Chancellor Palpatine karking sucks.

Fox scoffs. “You should see his paperwork after hearing his speeches. The hypocrisy never gets old.”

“Fox,” he interrupts, “you didn’t answer my question.”

He shakes his head, eyes carefully blank in the way that Rex  _ hates _ . “I’ll deal with it after Ponds does.”

“Your Senator isn’t gonna like that,” he huffs. “And I agree with her.”

“Shut up and go punch a pillow. Scream into it. Whatever,” his brother snaps. “Just do  _ something _ before Commander Tano interrupts another date night.”

Rex snorts. “No promises.”

“Hey.” His voice is sharp and deadly serious, enough to give him pause. “You’re not dying over this. He wouldn’t want you to.”

He almost wants to say that he won’t, because there’s nothing  _ to _ die over. Because Cody is still out there, still alive and kicking ass somewhere in the universe. And, sure, Rex is mad as all hell that he can’t  _ be there _ , that he can’t help his brother win whatever fight he’s fighting, but Cody is  _ alive _ . Just knowing that is keeping him going right now.

But Fox...Fox and the other commanders don’t have that.

Rex silently thanks the Force that his brother leaves right after that chiding comment. If he’d stayed one moment longer, he might have spilled his guts.

* * *

Beru Whitesun isn’t exactly the hardened freedom fighter Cody is expecting. She’s a young woman with bright, determined eyes and, frankly, in another life he thinks she could be a medic, because the way she looks him over is  _ terrifying _ . He thinks of the 212th’s medic, Chekar, with half-fondness. Chekar would  _ love _ this kid.

“Beru, this is Commander Cody,” Fay introduces coolly, making Jon twitch. “Cody, Beru Whitesun.”

Beru raises an eyebrow, an expression that doesn’t belong on the face of a simple Tatooine moisture farmer. “Aren’t you dead?”

Ah, so the news is already out on the Rim, no doubt thanks to the Separatists. They’re probably celebrating like it’s a damn holiday. Cody isn’t so self-centred as to think his death would be a massive victory for the Separatist, but he does know that he’s one of the few vode that is relatively well known, considering his Generals, and he also knows the CIS is full of a bunch of assholes who will take full advantage of his vode’s grief.

(He wonders, offhandedly, if all of his brothers know yet. Fox and Rex are guaranteed, but last he heard Ponds was on the Outer Rim without comm access.)

Cody just snorts. “Didn’t take.”

“You sound just like Anakin,” she says, a smile crossing her expression.

He blanks. “You know General Skywalker?”

“He’s my boyfriend’s step-brother. He calls sometimes, but not nearly enough.” Her explanation comes with a shrug before she’s motioning for them to come inside. “Come on in.”

“Thank you, Beru,” Fay says companionably, walking in step with the younger woman. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”

She nods. “It’s no problem, Master Fay, especially if you’ll return the favour.”

“Whatever you need us for,” Jon confirms as they enter the house.

Beru gestures down the hall. “The other three are in the kitchen. I have some vaporators to fix, so come find me if you need me.”

Fay leads the way into the kitchen as soon as she departs, shooting Cody a comforting smile. He nods, grateful, and doesn’t miss the way Jon looks between them with squinted eyes, as if he’s trying to figure something out. The man looks a little like Rex does when he’s trying to decide if Cody and his general are sleeping together.

(Please, Cody would  _ never _ break Chekar’s heart like that.)

“Three?” Cody asks Fay under his breath as Jon pushes past them to find his friends first. “You said there were only two other Masters.”

“My apologies, I hadn’t realised Tae would be joining us,” she murmurs back. “Nico’s nephew and Padawan; Tae Diath. He tends to wander more than the rest of us now.”

He knows that name. From where, Cody isn’t sure, but he’s certain he recognises it. Tae. Tae Diath, Tae Diath-- no, nothing. He tucks the knowledge into the back of his mind, sure that he’ll realise it sooner or later.

They reach the kitchen, where an older Master with grey hair is greeting Jon, a small smile on his face. Some space away is a short Bothan Master, her eyes bright and her smile more of a human-based one. Bothans are a predator species and oftentimes their joyful expressions can cause humans to, ah, what was the term Colt used? Flip their osik? Apparently General Ti can have the same effect, which the commanders think is hilarious. The shinies, on the other hand…

“Fay, it’s good to see you,” says the Bothan, giving the taller woman a tight hug.

Fay’s smile is soft and genuine, a precious thing. “And you, Knol. I assume the mission to Aria Prime went well?”

“Minimal casualties, but it was hard to sneak around with Billaba’s new Padawan,” Knol scoffs. “He’s a curious little thing, adorable, too. I pity Windu.”

“You didn’t already?” Fay questions, eyebrows raised.

Cody snorts, which has Knol’s gaze sliding over to him. She holds out a hand, which he shakes firmly. “Master Ven’nari,” he greets.

(He still isn’t used to this Force-sensitive thing, but he’s starting to be able to read people’s reactions beyond body language, sort of by using that light Ahsoka described to him so long ago. Knol is pleasantly surprised when he calls her Master instead of General and there goes Cody’s heart again, breaking for every Jedi who’s ever been forced to be something they’re not.)

“Knol, please,” she corrects, glancing down at his-- well, her-- outfit. “We’re practically sharing a closet already.”

He flushes, just slightly. “Fay’s idea.”

Knol glances between them, then grins. Before she can say anything, however, Master Diath crosses the room to the trio. “I’m assuming you’re Commander Cody, considering your death is all over the Holonet.”

“That’s me, dead man walking,” Cody says. “Master Diath, right?”

“Nico. It’s good to meet you, Commander, though as always, I wish it was under different circumstances,” he sighs. Then, he gestures behind him, to where a young man with already grey hair stands. “This is my nephew, Tae.”

Cody opens his mouth to greet him, but the realisation hits him like a brick wall. “The Padawan Pack,” he blurts before seeing the grief in Tae’s eyes. “I thought only Skywalker and Sund survived.”

Fay turns to the other Masters and speaks to them in low tones. Cody knows she’s probably telling them all about how she found him. And the, uh, Force-sensitive thing. And the chip thing.

“Elora was nice enough to keep it that way,” he replies succinctly. “Ani-- Anakin, have you seen him lately? Is he okay?”

He wisely doesn’t comment on the slip-up, though it does make him wonder. “Last I saw, he was fine. Stubborn and hot-headed, as usual, but...better, I think, now that he has a Padawan.”

The smile that gets him is  _ soft _ , so much softer than should be  _ legal _ . Tae seems like a serious kid and from what Cody’s heard, he’s plenty brave and reckless, as all Jedi are. But the way he asked after Anakin was hesitant and uncertain, so gently prodding for answers. Cody tucks that away for later, possibly for blackmail. Not against Tae, obviously. But the next time General Skywalker suggests something stupid, Cody is going to threaten to use Tae Diath against him. 

(If he ever sees the di’kut again, that is.)

“He has a Padawan?”

Cody nods, smiling despite himself. “Ahsoka Tano. She keeps him on his toes. They’re good for each other.”

“I’m glad,” he breathes out. A momentary grimace crosses his expression. “I was worried about him, after Jabiim. Um, Elora have you-- do you know where she ended up?”

He doesn’t even hesitate at the change of conversation, his blackmail folder against Skywalker growing ever thicker. “She went through a few months of recovery before Master Ti took her as a Padawan.” He smiles a little. “My vode take good care of her on Kamino.”

The kid nods, quietly pleased. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, though it’s somewhat sad.

Cody doesn’t know half of what went down on Jabiim, but he knows that it was brutal. The Padawan Pack was nearly decimated, with only two survivors-- three, Cody corrects mentally-- and that was  _ after _ all of the members lost their Masters. He knows that Anakin barely survived, only because of a recall that the Chancellor ordered, and he knows that General Kenobi always recalls it with a quiet rage. Cody hardly ever sees him angry,  _ truly _ angry, and it’s unnerving enough that he never brings up Jabiim if he can help it.

“Cody,” Fay calls gently. It might as well have been an order, though, because he turns in an instant.

“Yeah?”

The entire group is gathered then, eyes on Cody and Fay. She looks like she wants to speak, but Nico beats her to it.

“Cody, if you don’t object, I’d like to get a better sense of whatever it is you have in your head,” he says, calm and put-together, though his grimace speaks of concern. “I have experience with slaver chips in particular and I may be able to identify its purpose.”

Cody instinctively glances at Fay, who voices the concern resting in her downturned lips. “The last time I prodded at that thing, it gave him...painful visions, Nico. You’ll need to be  _ careful _ .”

Nico nods, turning back to the clone. “I’ll do my best, if you’re willing.”

He hesitates, taking a grounding breath. He followed Fay because he wants to know what this is. That’s always been the goal, discovering the purpose of the darkness in his head. If it has to do with saving the galaxy or even just his vode, that will come later, as will the Jetiise shit. For now, he’s gonna deal with  _ this _ . He’s gonna get this out of his head.

“I am,” he says, firm and leaving no room for indecisiveness. “I need to know what this is.”

Fay puts a hand on his shoulder and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

They move to the kitchen table, Nico and Cody sitting across from each other while Fay sits next to the latter and Knol next to the former. That leaves Jon and Tae to stand, the younger man pacing. Jon watches him, concerned, but doesn’t say anything.

Cody shuts his eyes when Nico puts his fingers against his temples. He almost jumps, too, when a hand grasps his, but relaxes when he recognises Fay’s cold fingers intertwining with his. With a moment of awareness, he notices that he doesn’t recognise them by the feel, but by the...sense of her, really. He can feel her presence, more than a natural wary instinct, but a physical feeling in space.

(More and more of what he once attributed to heightened instincts is showing itself plainly now as a Force instinct.)

“Deep breaths, Cody,” he thinks he hears her say.

He realises with a jolt that she never  _ spoke aloud _ but doesn’t have the time to voice the thought because suddenly, he’s not  _ there _ anymore--

_ A battlefield. Screams echo through the air and the smell of smoke fills his lungs. He’s choking but it’s not-- no, he’s not choking, he’s choking  _ someone _. _

_ “Cody,” someone gasps under his hands. “Cody, Cody, please--” _

_ Ginger hair and sad,  _ sad _ blue eyes. It’s his  _ general _ \-- _

_ No, it’s Fay. It’s Fay, her hair dirtied and face red with tears. Her breath comes out in gasps and Cody can feel his hands-- they’re not his hands, he doesn’t have any control, Fay I’m so sorry-- crush her throat tighter and tighter. _

_ And then those  _ words _. _

_ “Commander Cody. Execute Order 66.” _

_ “Cody!” Fay cries, but it’s not a cry for help, a plead for her life, it’s like she’s trying to  _ wake him up.  _ She’s afraid for him-- why him? He’s killing her! _

_ “Fay, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m--” _

_ He says it, but he  _ can’t _. He can’t speak, he can’t stop, and he can’t breathe-- _

He gasps awake to find himself on the floor of Beru’s kitchen, nails digging red lines into his skull. “Get it out, get it out, get it out--” he keeps saying, but his throat burns like he’s been screaming it and maybe he has with the way the others are panicking.

“Cody, Cody!” Fay calls and he jolts at her voice, so alike to what he saw. “You’re alright, you’re safe. Can you hear me?”

“Fay,” he breathes out, reaching out for her.

She’s there in an instant, kneeling before him and grasping his arms. “Breathe with me,” she says and he tries, he  _ does _ , but all he can hear is  _ screaming _ .

He tries to listen to the others, to Nico, who is instructing Tae firmly. “Find Beru, get a scanner and get her to call someone who can perform surgery on short notice.”

“What about the--?”

Jon interrupts. “We’ll deal with the mission  _ after _ the panic attack.”

“Cody,” Fay calls, bringing his attention back to her. “I need you to focus.”

“Was Antilles your Padawan?” he asks abruptly. 

It’s what he always does when he panics, as rare as the situation is. Rex is there, usually, to rant about the newest episode of a holofilm, about how bad the writing was or how this character should’ve ended up with this one. That’s the only reason Cody keeps up with his awful shows, is to have something to think about when he can’t think of anything else but  _ death _ .

Fay tilts her head, understanding immediately, which Cody  _ adores _ . “No, not exactly. What gave you that idea?”

He shrugs. “Reminded me of General Skywalker and Commander Tano, that’s all.”

“An’ya Kuro was his Master. Most people know her as the Dark Woman. She is…” Fay’s hesitation becomes a scowl, the first genuine show of strong displeasure Cody has ever gotten from her. “...not the kindest of Masters. She trained him outside the Temple, so he never knew another Jedi before he-- well, he was Knighted at 16 and I met him on one of his first missions.”

Cody frowns, vicious and disappointed. “He was a  _ kid _ .”

“Yes. And every time I gave him advice, he flinched as if expecting  _ punishment _ ,” she spits.

“You took him in,” he finishes.

He can see it, he thinks, Fay taking in a headstrong but terrified teenager and helping him find his way. She’s so  _ kind _ ,  _ too _ kind, he’d say, if he didn’t know that she could survive anything,  _ everything _ and still be as good as she is. She already  _ has _ survived everything. Almost everything.

His thoughts drift to the vision.

“I know what the chip does,” he whispers suddenly, harsh and  _ fearful _ .

Fay reaches out, a hand on his cheek. Something in the gesture steadies him-- or maybe she’s doing something with the Force, he can’t tell. “What is it? What will it do?”

“It’ll make me kill you. All of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw I have about one and half more chapters pre-written so you're at least gonna get another update next friday guaranteed :D


	5. connected by these quiet lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cody gets ready for surgery, after which Fay begins planning with the other Masters to raid a compound owned by slavers. Rex is released from the medbay and observes the grief of the 212th before meeting the 501st’s new temporary general. He then proceeds to harass his older brother about his girlfriend. Starving, dehydrated, and delirious, Anakin is seeing dead people-- well, one dead person in particular: a young man with grey hair.
> 
> Translations: kote - glory, Mando’ade - children of Mandalore (Mandalorians), vode - siblings, ade - children, vod - sibling, alor - leader, chekar - stab (shiv, specifically), ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: maybe we’ll meet again), riduur - partner/spouse  
> Word Count: 3,632 (oh fuck I beat the longest chapter again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so much content in this chapter. I brought Feemor into this because I have no self-control and for the same reason, we’re going to get more 212th content in the next few chapters because I want to flesh out Chekar...yes his name is stab. And yes he has a crush on Obi-Wan. Will they get together? I haven’t decided yet. Also his pronouns are he/she :D

“I administered the amount of sedative you said. I know he’s a clone, but...are you certain that’s the right number? That’s usually how much I give _Zabraks_.”

“Anything less and he’ll wake up halfway through,” Fay informs the nervous Tholothian.

He nods, fidgeting with his hands. “He’ll, uh, he’ll go under in a few minutes. You can stay with him until then.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs as he leaves.

Cody is about as comfortable as he can get on a table, but it’s the best they could do under the circumstances. He doesn’t know how Beru found a decent doctor on this dustball, not to mention on such short notice, but he’ll be forever grateful.

He’s grateful, too, that the Masters didn’t question how he knows what the chip will make him do. The _horror_ on their faces struck a chord within him because it was in that moment that he realised that if this chip is in _all of his vode_ , that means the entire Jedi Order is one command away from _extinction_. Tae had started pacing at the realisation and, last Cody saw of him, he hadn’t stopped.

Frankly, he’s just glad they haven’t asked about the vision. He’d rather not relive the feeling of crushing Fay’s throat with his bare hands.

He glances up at her and knows she can feel his sudden wash of _dread_.

“Why did you change your name?” she asks quietly, carding her fingers through his hair.

It’s the nicest thing he’s ever felt, really. It doesn’t make him forget what he saw or the fact that he heard Fay speak even though she didn’t. He wants to ask about that and about the things she keeps doing with the Force that he’s never even heard of before; not just the healing, but how she makes him... _braver_ , how she steadies him just by holding his hand. He knows she’s doing something-- he can feel it, he thinks-- but he doesn’t know _how._

Cody’s afraid to ask, too, though, because he’s worried she’ll _stop_.

“Hm?” he asks, forgetting her question.

Fay smiles warmly. “Why did you change your name from Kote to Cody?”

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” he huffs, face falling. “We’re not...Mandalorian, you know. Not really. Kryze thinks we’re vessels of war and the Rough Draft was an exile. But he taught us stuff, little things. We picked up things from the trainers, too, those bastards. It felt like we finally had something that was _ours_ , something that made us more than property. We were Mando’ade, not just clones. Not just soldiers.”

Fay pauses, her hand freezing a few centimetres from his hair. Then, she starts again as quickly as she stopped, clearly uneasy with that train of thought. Cody knows it hurts her to hear him talk that way, that she feels so _guilty_ , so to blame for what he and his vode have been through.

“But Fett didn’t-- we weren’t his _ade_ ,” he spits, fury rising. He can’t help it. The bastard is _dead_ and still, Cody hates him. “He didn’t _care_. He taught us those things to dig the knife into the Jedi when we served beside you, to remind you of Galidraan with every _word_. He didn’t give a flying--”

Cody lets out a shuddering breath, pulling himself together. Now is really not the time for a rant, not when the drugs are starting to make him tired.

“He gave me that name. Kote. Glory.” He scoffs. “I think he had some part in this, the chip. I think he wanted glory in the death of the Jedi. Why would he ever give an army to his greatest enemies?”

“I think you may be right,” Fay says, quiet and entirely non-judgemental, which has him relaxing further.

He nods, though it’s hard as his head gets a little fuzzy. “The older we got the more we hated him for it. We kept some things, made ‘em our own. Think we picked up more from you than we ever did the trainers, you crazy Jetiise. People started calling me Cody because they couldn’t pronounce right and...it hurt, first, but I just let it happen.”

“Because Kote isn’t you anymore,” she finishes.

Cody smiles, just a little. “Yeah.”

“But your closest vode use it?”

“To let me know when I’m acting too much like Fett,” he says, quietly bitter. “I don’t ever wanna turn into that stubborn asshole.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t.”

“Are you getting premonitions now?” he snorts.

He counts her short laugh as a win, even if he can barely hear it. “Sleep, Cody,” he thinks he hears her say as he goes under. “I’ll be here.”

Fay gives it a few minutes just to be sure he’s out before informing the doctor, who ushers her out politely. She joins her fellow Masters and Tae just outside the Lars home after a pause to check-- through the Force this time-- that Cody is unconscious. His presence quiet, she steps outside.

“Is he okay?” Tae inquires first.

She nods. “The sedatives are working.”

“So,” Knol says, a smile on her face, “you two are adorable.”

Fay rolls her eyes, a gesture that really only Knol can get from her. “There is no ‘us two,’ Knol.”

“But you think he’s cute and he has a crush on you,” young Tae supplies, a mischievous smile crossing his expression.

“Cute isn’t the word I would use,” Knol hums. “More like you wanna pin him against a wall and--”

“Knol!” hisses Jon, who would rather not have that image in his head. Fay is practically his _Master_ for crying out loud.

Fay smiles at the banter, glad for the brief moments they can share.

Nico makes a vague gesture with his hand. “It helps that you have a Force bond.”

"What?!” Tae exclaims, looking to Fay for confirmation.

She nods. “I didn’t notice it until after the first vision. The chip made it difficult to notice his Force-sensitivity, but I felt the bond, heard his thoughts. It confirmed my suspicions.”

“Bonds generally have to be formed from both sides,” Nico reminds her, one eyebrow raised almost teasingly.

“What he saw was...dark. He reached out,” she says, exhaling deeply, “and I reached back.”

It was so natural, too, to pull at his Force presence and wrap him in hers like a blanket. She couldn’t get rid of the darkness, but she could muffle it and that had been enough. Cody is...different, in the Force. He’s a shifting light-- and he _is_ a light, she has no doubt of that-- ever-changing, ever unreadable. The man is a mystery and, frankly, one that Fay would like to solve. She wonders what he fears, what the caves of Ilum would show him. He could make it out with a crystal, she’s certain, and he _will_ be a Jedi, that she can feel in her soul. But she wonders just what kind of Jedi he’ll make.

“I saved his life,” Fay finally says, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “His feelings may fade.”

Jon smirks. “And they may not.”

She tilts her head, conceding the point. Despite herself, though, she smiles. “I enjoy his company. He’s a good man.” An understatement, she thinks. Then, she sighs. “He’ll need it in the coming days. As soon as we’re through here, we should head to Ilum.”

“You think he’ll be ready for a lightsaber?” Knol asks.

“He’s already a trained warrior,” Tae pipes up. “He’ll mostly need help with using the Force.”

Knol grins, all teeth, which has everyone but Fay shuddering. “I think the four of us can manage it. It’ll be fun, having a shared Padawan. Tae can join in.”

Said Padawan grimaces. “I’m gonna die.” Then, glances sideways at his uncle, who is no doubt snickering mentally. “You’re laughing. I’m going to _die_ and you’re _laughing_.”

Fay, though amused, knows they need to get to work. “Jon, did Beru give you the target?”

“A compound where the local slavers hang out. It’s a handful of klicks from Mos Eisley,” he says, straightening immediately. “Will you come with us?”

She doesn’t hesitate to shake her head. “I want to be here when Cody comes to. Tell me about the compound.”

* * *

Rex wishes his men were less attentive sometimes. He’s in the med bay for 24 hours after Fox’s visit and nearly every member of the 501st comes to visit him at some point. 

Fives, Echo, and Jesse are his most frequent visitors, other than Kix, who watches over him like a hawk. Fives doesn’t know what to say at first, but when he does speak, it’s to apologize for what happened to Codes. As if it was his fault. Echo tries to cheer up, tells him about their new temporary General. Jesse proceeds to moon over the man; General Feemor Kegre sure is something, according to him, which Rex thinks he really shouldn’t be saying about General Kenobi’s lineage brother.

Wolffe shows up once, too, thanks to General Koon, who gets him a free moment. There’s none of their regular roughhousing or banter, just quiet words.

(And both of them pretend that Rex can’t see Wolffe cradling his knuckles carefully, no doubt wearing bandages underneath his armour. Better a punching bag than another vod or, Force forbid, a shiny.)

When Kix finally releases him from the med bay, he gives him a sad look. “Please,” he begs, “deal with this. When the General is back, let yourself deal with this.”

Rex can do nothing but nod. Fuck. It’ll be hard to break that promise, but there’s nothing _to_ deal with.

He gets the debrief on his shiny new datapad and reads through it. General Kegre will be heading up the 501st as they load up new shinies on Kamino before chasing leads on General Skywalker. The 212th will be with them, with Fox taking Cody’s place until a new commander can be trained. And because the _Resolute_ was damaged in the firefight with Dooku, they’ll all be sharing the _Negotiator_.

The ship reeks of grief, as Rex finds out immediately upon leaving the med bay. (They moved from the _Resolute_ while he was unconscious, apparently.)

There’s a memorial for Cody outside his quarters. Someone-- Boil, likely-- has painted the Mando’a remembrance script on the wall in 212th gold. His broken helmet hangs below it and what little the vode could scrape up sits on the ground below that; flowers, trinkets, even some drawings, one of which Rex recognises as Wooley’s style. It’s a messy but beautiful sketch of Cody, in full armour except for a helmet as he punches a droid right in the nose. On the corner of the page, a small ‘Alor’ is written in Wooley’s messy chicken-scratch.

212th gold isn’t proper gold, not the colour of vengeance on Mandalore. It’s orange, really, for shereshoy. Shereshoy: a word beyond lust for life, hanging onto life and relishing it, the determination to seek out and grab every possible moment. Rex doesn’t think he’s ever heard a word more uniquely _Cody_ and for a second, he’s gripped with grief. He shakes himself out of it, remembering that his brother is _alive_ and still fighting, dammit, no matter what stupid thing he’s chasing.

Rex walks by the memorial quickly, not wanting to intrude on Waxer and Boil, who are standing in front of it in complete silence, shoulders pressed together.

He makes a beeline for General Kenobi’s quarters, which are just around the corner, with a package from the Temple. However, the man gets one look at a sobbing pile of Chekar collapsed on the general and turns right around. He can give the package to General Kenobi later.

Turning the corner again, he slams into someone’s chest.

A very _big_ someone.

When Rex’s head stops swimming, he manages to look up at the man, who flushes bright red. He has near golden hair, which should be a crime, and blue eyes that are drenched in guilt. The man is a Jetii, wearing traditional robes, though instead of a brown cloak he wears a grey one. His obi is almost as blue as his eyes and, like a vod’s armour paint, probably bears some kind of personal significance.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention--”

“No, that’s my fault--” Rex tries to say.

They both stop with a laugh.

“You must be Captain Rex,” the man says, his voice surprisingly soft as he holds out a hand. “Master Feemor Kegre. Anakin speaks highly of you.”

Rex shakes his hand, nodding. “My men say the same of you, sir.” Then, he pauses and raises an eyebrow. “Are you really General Kenobi’s brother?”

The smile that emerges on General Kegre’s face is practically a grin, fondness in his eyes. “In all but blood. Master Qui-Gon took him as an apprentice long after I was Knighted, but I made an effort to reach out. He’s the best little brother anyone could ask for.”

“I wouldn’t wish his recklessness on anyone, sir,” Rex says dryly.

He laughs. “I have enough of it myself to manage, Captain.” He glances down at Rex’s package. “Is that from the Temple?”

“For General Kenobi,” he confirms as he shuffles awkwardly. “I meant to bring it to him, but he’s, uh...He’s with Chekar.”

Feemor’s eyes widen in recognition. He frowns. “Oh. Yes, he was...quite distraught. I know he and Obi are close. I’ll take it to him. I believe Commander Fox was looking for you; last I saw of him, he was just outside the ship. I think Senator Amidala is seeing him off.”

Despite himself, Rex smiles. “Thank you, sir. I’ll go find him right away.”

“Ah, the expression of devious little brothers everywhere,” he sighs, though his lips curl upward. “Good luck.”

With a nod, Rex takes off. He’s relieved that General Kegre isn’t a hardass. He seems like a decent man and Rex is grateful for that, even if his assignment is temporary. Better yet, he’s part of Skywalker and Kenobi’s lineage, so he’s practically a guaranteed warrior. Absently, he wonders if General Kegre banters as those two do. That would be hilarious to witness, if not slightly irritating, as they generally banter when they shouldn’t be.

Rex finds his older brother in a quiet corner some distance away from the ship. He’s not alone, just like General Kegre thought. In fact, he’s whispering quietly to Senator Amidala, the two of them standing far closer than they should.

It occurs to Rex that this might be their last conversation if things go horribly wrong, so he gives them a few minutes.

“Just be safe, Fox,” Padmé murmurs, grasping her partner’s wrist.

She’s worried for him, more so than she usually is. He hardly ever leaves Coruscant and of course, the one time he does, he’s going with the 501st and the 212th, both notorious for getting into trouble. Fox is beyond capable, she knows, but it doesn’t make her feel that much better. There’s so much he _can’t_ survive.

Furthermore, Fox is worried about _her_. She’s heading home to Naboo for some sort of Festival of Lights-- one she wanted him to be there for. She’ll have the Wolfpack to protect her before they deploy and it’s not that Fox doesn’t trust Wolffe, he’d just rather be there to take care of her himself. He may have learned quickly that Padmé is a force to be reckoned with, but that’s what they used to say about Cody, too.

“I will. Stay close to General Koon,” he tells her. Grateful that his helmet is under his arm, he presses his forehead against hers, a softer version of a Keldabe kiss. “I’ll bring Skywalker home.”

“I know.”

Fox sighs when he hears Rex clear his throat. He glances up to flip the man off, earning himself a few snickers. “I hate him.”

“You love him,” Padmé reminds him, amused. Then, her face falls. “And be gentle, _please_. He’s dealing with this differently than you.”

He nods, glancing back over at his little brother with a frown. “Something’s up with him. Something about Cody. I’m worried.”

(He hates to say it, but Padmé kind of brings this out in him; being open about his feelings. She thinks the same of him. She’s honest with him in a way she can’t be with others, her handmaidens excluded. Fox gets along with them, too, so well that Girls & Gays Nights-- the exception added for Sabé right after they came out-- are downright terrifying. Partners aren’t supposed to be allowed those nights, but they make an exception for Fox.)

“He’ll be fine,” she teases with a smile, “he has you to look after him.”

Fox scoffs. “If I don’t throttle him first.”

“I can hear you!”

“Good!” he shouts back.

Padmé laughs, loud and sweet and it brings out something fuzzy and warm in his chest. “Go,” she says, nudging him. “And don’t kill each other.”

“No promises. Tell Sabé not to die.”

She rolls her eyes, a gesture unbecoming of a Senator but perfectly at home on her face. “No promises.”

Fox departs with a jaunty salute. He hasn’t had to properly salute her in _months_ , not unless they’re on duty, but he likes to do it just to see her huff. When he finds his way to Rex’s side, he elbows his bastard little brother before he can even speak.

“Shut up.”

Rex wheezes. “I didn’t say _anything_ \--”

“I can hear you thinking it,” Fox spits. “Get in the ship, you fuck.”

“Ret’urcye mhi, vod-uur!” Rex calls to the Senator, waving. He grins when he gets one back. “Hah! She responded.”

He huffs. “She doesn’t know what it _means_.”

Fox crams his helmet back on his head, forever going to deny the red that paints his cheeks, almost as deep as his armour. Fett taught them plenty of Mando’a growing up, with help from a few trainers, mostly by accident as they cursed worse than any smuggler, but he’d never given them a word for a vod’s partner-- likely because he never thought they’d need it. So, the vode made one up by mixing vod and riduur; vod-uur.

(Fox hasn’t told Padmé about the word. He doesn’t have to, though, because Sabé, the smart ass, has already learned it from Thorn, who loves them more than he loves his safety, apparently. Padmé has known about the meaning for weeks now.)

“Hurry up, jackass,” he snaps at Rex, shoving him forward. “We have shinies to bully.”

* * *

The chains around Anakin’s wrists _hurt_.

He was fine for the first hour or so but now it’s been days and it’s killing him. No food, no water, and no room to _stretch_ is killing him. The way he’s been set up doesn’t help; kneeling on the ground, arms chained to the ceiling and pulled slightly behind him. His vision is constantly fuzzy and his head won’t stop ringing, either. But the most annoying thing is probably the fact that he can’t move his hair out of his face.

Kark, he’s really gotten himself into it this time. Dooku tortured him for 24 hours straight and then dipped, something about ‘bigger fish to fry,’ which really irks Anakin because he _knows_ the sick freak means Obi-Wan. If Dooku even _touches_ his Master--

He lets out a deep breath, centring himself. Master Obi-Wan will be _safe_. He can survive Dooku, especially with the 212th and 501st at his side.

The thought reminds him of Cody and grief overcomes him.

He was never that close to Cody, not as much as he is Rex, but he respected the man deeply. Cody was a badass and Anakin knows Obi-Wan misses him.

Anakin tries to shift slightly and ends up wrenching his shoulder.

The pained noise that leaves his lips is unintentional. “ _Fuck_ \--”

Footsteps sound from down the hall and he goes silent on instinct. He looks up as best he can, but all he can see is a figure in brown crossing the way. Anakin doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help shifting, which makes his chains rattle. The figure turns immediately and he gets a good-- albeit fuzzy-- look at his face.

Oh. Anakin didn’t realise that he'd gone _that_ long without food. He thought he had longer before the delusions would start.

With that young face and that early-onset grey hair that brings out his dark eyes, there’s only one person that man can be and he’s _dead_. Anakin lets out a shuddering breath, watching shock cross the ghost’s face. He should call him a delusion, but...well, that boy haunts him. The boy that clutched his hand every time thunder struck and left him shaking, the boy that told him-- to his _face_ \-- that he was worried about him, something hardly anyone had ever done before.

Anakin turned his life around for that boy after he was gone. He still misses him.

“Tae,” he calls as loudly as he dares, a half-raspy shout.

He watches Tae-- a young man now, certainly older, which shouldn’t be _possible_ , given that he’s Anakin’s imagination-- cross the hall to him, wide-eyed.

Anakin is too far gone, too deprived of food to even question it when Tae _rips_ the door off its hinges with the Force. His dead companion rushes over to him, kneeling on the ground before him. It takes everything not to wince when he reaches out. Anakin is terrified he won’t feel it, that his fingers will ghost over his cheek and the vision will disappear. He doesn’t want Tae to go.

When warm fingertips meet his cheek, he gasps, gaze shooting up to meet Tae’s.

“Ani,” Tae whispers, almost reverently as he cups his jaw.

Anakin sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload! Yesterday I was feeling super gross and high key forgot about this. I hope you enjoy it, though!


	6. To believe her when she says it'll be okay, is my duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Kamino, Grey deals with the loss of Cody with help from their family. Meanwhile, Ponds enjoys a near-vacation on Tatooine with Mace and a few others until a certain older little brother comes knocking, horrid news in hand. And on the other side of the planet, Anakin Skywalker goes home.
> 
> Translations: vode - siblings, taab'echaaj'la - marching far away (deceased), ti Buir - with Parent (Dad, in this case)  
> Word Count: 3,090

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no Cody or Rex in this chapter-- sad, I know, but it’s necessary to the plot AND you get Composed Lineage (Mace’s lineage,,,just to be clear) content, so I think it’s worth it. Grey uses they/them ONLY in this fic, so please do not misgender them thank you. Also I made myself sad with the Ponds bit :( Sorry in advance. Title is from My Mother, My Mother by Luther Hughes.

Grey is dreaming again. They know it the second they hear Cody’s screams, the memory of Colt announcing his death seared into their head.

The jungle is thick and menacing and they can’t find their way through, which wouldn’t be as terrifying if their brother wasn’t _screeching_. The vornskr has him, Grey knows, and they have to get there _soon_ because otherwise, Cody is going to be dinner.

They cut through vines with a vibroblade, panting with the effort and shouting for their vode, who are scattered about in their search for their brother.

When they find him, the scene will be bathed in blood. The grass will be soaked in it, as will Cody’s blacks. The vornskr won’t go down easy, Grey remembers. In fact, the bastard will take down two vode before they finally put him down and drag Codes to safety. He won’t be recognisable afterwards, not with the scar around his eye and the others that litter the rest of his body.

This survival exercise was meant to be _easy_. The only hostile creatures-- the vornskrs-- aren’t even supposed to be _interested in them._

Grey knows they chase Force-sensitives-- Jedi and Sith and everything in between-- but they know, too, that the Kaminoans left that out of the report on purpose. High or low midichlorians would just be another defect to account for in their minds. The only reason Grey knows is because Jango tells them stories and after one of his encounter with a vornskr, Grey had _begged him_ to tell them more, long after the others went to bed.

(Grey knows, now, that they can never tell the others about this. They’ll never tell them what they witness as they rush into the clearing: Cody sending the beast flying backwards with nothing but his hand. Cody won’t remember it when he wakes up, so Grey won’t either. They won’t let the Kaminoans take him.)

“CODY!” Grey cries, their voice almost catching in their throat.

“Grey?”

They whirl around at the small voice, a voice they shouldn’t recognise yet. The breath they let out is full of grief, but also relief.

“Caleb,” they say, gentle and certain. “What are you doing here?”

The boy is shaking, his brown hair a mess and his sleep-clothes rumpled as if he hasn’t gotten out of bed. And he hasn’t, either, because Grey is still dreaming. “I dunno,” he says, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I know you didn’t,” Grey reassures before he can feel guilty.

(Cody would say that too, when he’d throw them too far in training or hit them with too much force. He’d always say he didn’t know his own strength and only Grey knew just how right he was.)

In the distance, Cody screams. Caleb goes flying into Grey’s arms, fear etched into his face.

“Commander Cody,” Caleb says, all-knowing in the way that only a dream-sharer can be when they enter another’s mind. “Is this how he died?”

“No. No, Force, I hope not,” Grey murmurs, though the second part is mostly to themself.

They embrace the boy tightly as another scream echoes through the jungle. Grey wishes Caleb never had to see this, that he’ll never see anything like it ever again, but they know it’s a weak hope. What Jedi is going to escape that in a war?

 _A child_ , Grey’s traitorous mind begs. _This child._ My _child._

They wake in a cold sweat, nearly falling off the edge of the bed. It’s almost too late for them to catch themself, but warm hands shoot out from under the covers and grasp them before they can tumble over.

“Grey?” Depa asks, her voice rough with sleep.

They let out a shaky breath and sit up, wiping at the sweat on their forehead. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, sitting up as well. “Nightmares?”

The nod they give is hesitant. “Yes. No-- no, memories, really. Cody. Can’t stop thinking about him.”

Depa wraps her arms around them, pulling them close. She isn’t quite used to the Kaminoan atmosphere yet, still wearing a full set of pyjamas while Grey sleeps shirtless. They’d offered to sleep on the couch in her quarters, just in case someone entered without warning, but she’d waved them off, unashamed of their relationship. It still flusters Grey, sometimes, how unafraid she is, even with how many people might whisper _attachment_.

(She would die for Grey, but she would never kill for them. And in their opinion, that’s enough to prove that this isn’t attachment.)

“I’m so sorry, Grey.”

They grasp her hand like a lifeline, taking deep breaths and letting them out again. “Caleb saw. He didn’t mean to.”

She grimaces. “It’s difficult for him, with so many people around. We shouldn’t stay on Kamino much longer; I’m afraid of what he might see.”

“I’m afraid of what he already saw,” they whisper.

Depa prods gently at their mind, seeking permission. They let her in without hesitation. Grey trusts no one more than they do Depa, especially with their mind. She’s always gentle and careful, but determined and always, _always_ with purpose. Her strength in the Force is like nothing Grey has ever seen in another Jedi-- other than maybe Yoda-- and it continues to floor them.

(Caleb is going to turn out amazing, under her guidance. Grey couldn’t be more proud.)

The moment she sees the brief memory, Depa flinches. Her fingers find their way to Grey’s shoulders, where she presses repeating patterns into their skin, a comforting gesture.

“Peace,” she murmurs against their temple before kissing it.

Neither of them is surprised when the door connecting their quarters to Caleb’s slides open.

The boy stands there with red, tear-stained cheeks and rubs his eyes miserably. “Master?” he calls, a twinge of fear in his voice.

“Here, Padawan,” his Master says, moving to make space between her and Grey.

Grey doesn’t dare protest, doesn’t even think to, because Caleb is afraid and it’s their fault. Even if it wasn’t, they would never deny that boy any comfort, not even one that isn’t common in 12-year-old boys. They would let that kid sleep in their bed every night without regret.

Caleb stumbles over to the bed and flops onto it in a way that only young people can. Depa smiles, ever fond, and pulls the blankets over the top of him with a twinge of the Force.

(Misuse, Grey would tease if they weren’t exhausted.)

Once Caleb is comfortable, he flings himself at Grey, who takes the hug with a bit of surprise.

“That was awful,” he mumbles into their shoulder.

They squeeze him tight. “I’m sorry.”

Unexpectedly, the boy punches that same shoulder as soon as the words pass Grey’s lips. “Shut up,” he huffs. “Not your fault.”

Grey snorts and glares at Depa, who shrugs innocently as if he didn’t pick up that behaviour from her. Actually, he may have picked it up from Alpha-17, seeing as they’ve been here a few days. Grey swears to the Force that they’ve never seen Alpha so happy; he’d lit up like a Life Day tree at the sight of Caleb and only grew more overjoyed when he discovered that Grey and Depa are raising him _together_.

(Maybe it’s because Alpha likes to joke that he’s the commanders’ only decent father figure. Maybe Grey should convince Caleb to call him Gramps. They rethink that, because Alpha might actually _enjoy it_ and they’re aiming for torture.)

“Both of you tuck in,” Depa orders, pulling the blankets up.

The three of them settle in like a pile of tookas, Caleb wrapping his little arms around Grey, who has an arm under the boy so they can reach Depa. She smiles at her family and nudges them both with gentle sleep suggestions in the Force, just enough to make them drowsy. Just as Caleb starts snoring, Depa grabs Grey’s hand and kisses it to remind them that she’ll be there if the nightmares return.

Grey smiles, kisses their son’s forehead, and falls into the best night of sleep they’ve gotten since Cody died.

* * *

Ponds will admit that he didn't have Tatooine in mind when he said he wanted a vacation. It’s too dry, too scummy to properly enjoy, but at least it’s not _Coruscant_. On this planet, at least, he can share quarters with Mace without raising eyebrows.

(It’s nice, if not anxiety-inducing, to have blocked comms, too. The Chancellor can’t bother them as often.)

He knows it’s cheesy to be glad for the alone time that comes with this mission, since they only have to bring a squad of 5 down to the planet’s surface, himself and Mace included. Ponds handpicks the squad members, vode who need a break the most, though it’s difficult to decide. They set up in a too-cramped residential building, which is perfectly fine with them; it’s bigger than what they usually get, anyway. Ponds knows he picked the right vode when none of them says a word about his shacking up with the general.

(He isn’t surprised, though. He trains the best of the best in the 91st, so he’ll need to have a serious conversation about observation skills with anyone who hasn’t noticed that he and Mace are together yet.)

He is just slightly disappointed, however, when someone knocks on their door at _kriffing 0500_.

“No.”

Mace only chuckles, which should be infuriating, but Ponds is too tired to even huff. “It sounds important. Are you going to get it?”

“ _No,_ ” he enunciates. “Before the suns are up, I’m dead to the world.”

“A pity, I’ll have to plan the funeral,” his partner says dryly.

Despite his words, Ponds drags himself out of bed, albeit with a too-loud groan just to let the person on the other side of the door know how _fucked_ they are when he gets his hands on them. He doesn’t bother to tug on a proper set of blacks, stumbling over to the door in his shorts and tank-- things that Mace got him on their last leave after he complained about his blacks getting too hot on desert planets.

“It’s Razor,” Mace supplies helpfully as Ponds approaches the door. Then, he frowns. “And someone else.”

“Razor, I’m gonna have you running suicides until you wanna _commit_ \--!” Ponds starts to shout, hitting the control panel to make the door slide open.

He stops abruptly at the sight of dark, fluffy hair, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. The boy in front of him lights up, but behind him, Razor looks miffed. He’s gripping the back of the kid’s shirt like he could bolt any minute and, knowing the kid, he’s probably attempted multiple times. Mace sits up in bed, ready to stand if he has to.

“Boba,” Ponds growls out.

It’s not that he doesn’t love his older little brother, quite the opposite actually. He wants to know what the hell Boba is doing on _Tatooine_. By _himself_.

“Ponds!” the boy says cheerfully. Then, his gaze drifts to the bed behind him, his eyes widening when he sees Mace. “Ponds?” he asks, desperation sinking in.

When he looks up at his brother, hoping that he’s suddenly delirious, all he gets is a questioning glare. Boba’s jaw drops, horror overtaking his expression as he looks between them. Mace isn’t smirking, but it’s taking everything in him _not to_. Ponds can feel it anyway and glances back at his partner with a huff. Mace shrugs.

“Ponds!” Boba squeaks, almost _offended_.

“Cuff him to a table, I’ll be there in five,” Ponds tells Razor, who nods.

“You’re a bast--”

The closing door cuts off the boy’s insult. Behind him, Mace snorts and climbs out of bed now that there aren’t any 12-year-old boys looking in on them. Ponds allows himself the small pleasure of watching his partner cross the room, completely naked, to grab a set of robes.

“I think you have something to deal with other than me,” Mace says dryly over his shoulder.

Ponds huffs and moves to stand beside him, hugging him from behind. “He could wait,” he hums against the back of Mace’s neck.

“You said five minutes.”

He groans. “Remind me never to do that again.”

“You have my word,” he says, half-teasing but half-serious, too. “Go deal with your brother.”

Unable to help himself, Ponds reaches around to kiss behind Mace’s ear, earning him a grateful little sigh. He departs moments later, fully dressed and more or less ready to deal with Boba.

He finds the boy handcuffed to the residence’s dining room table. As soon as he arrives, Razor dips with a grumble, leaving him to sit across from Boba and sigh deeply. Boba tugs at the cuffs and, without hesitation, Ponds removes them. Most of their brothers probably would have left them on-- and they’d be smart to, because Boba is a slippery little shit-- but Ponds _knows_ he’s Boba’s favourite. He won’t run from him.

(Well. Maybe Mace has changed things. Ponds quietly hopes he hasn’t. He’d really like for them to get along, as difficult as that may be.)

“Do you mind telling me why you’re on _Tatooine_ \--?”

“Bounty hunting, obviously,” Boba scoffs.

Ponds frowns. “My boyfriend risks his _life_ to help us break you out of prison and you go _right back to_ \--”

“I didn’t know he was your boyfriend! Why _is_ he your boyfriend, he _killed_ \--”

“And he broke you _out of prison_ , so shut your trap,” he snaps. “He already apologized--”

“Some apology--” he mutters, huffing.

Ponds interrupts him again. “How did you find us? _Why_ did you find us?”

“I saw some vode in the market, you guys aren’t that subtle.” For the first time in a long time, Ponds watches his older little brother hesitate. “And I thought with the HoloNet exploding about Kote, maybe--”

Blinding, _freezing_ horror washes over him. He half stands up and reaches across the table to grab Boba’s wrist, rendering him silent.

“What about Cody?” he asks. Boba’s eyes go wide.

“You don’t know,” his brother says, a realisation

Ponds repeats himself, more determined and desperate. “Boba. What about Cody? Where is he?”

“Taab'echaaj'la,” the boy whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Ti Buir.”

Ponds falls back into his chair, numb. He can’t think, he can hardly _breathe_. The one thing he can think to do is ignore Boba’s addition of Jango. The boy knows better, knows that his father didn’t love his vode the way he does, the way he should have. But maybe he has some kind of hope that Cody and Jango can bury the hatchet, wherever they’re marching towards. Ponds hopes that the Force won’t let them find each other. If anyone could find a way to kill a ghost, it’d be Cody.

He lets out a shaky breath, dropping his head into his hands.

Boba’s hands are shaking, his lip trembling, but he’s valiantly fighting off tears, trying to be the strong bounty hunter he thinks he has to be. Still, he ducks around the table to drag his big younger brother into a hug.

Ponds doesn’t hug him back, mind _screaming_ for the loss of Cody.

Why didn’t he _know_? He always knows, _always_. His general, his _boyfriend_ , is the Head of the karking Jedi Order-- he’s always the first to know, but _this time_ , this _one_ time--

Mace appears with quick, desperate steps, moving for Ponds.

(He told him a long time ago, over a fire on a freezing planet that they can’t recall the name of, that he tends to touch his mind, checking on him without realising. Apparently, Ponds stands out in the Force, at least to him, and he can hardly resist the pull of his emotions.)

Mace goes to wrap an arm around him, but Boba _glares_ , fierce and full of rage. Unable to stop himself, the older man flinches at the projection of memories and emotion. It surprises Boba enough to have him hesitate. Ponds, on the other hands, grasps Mace’s sleeve and drags him closer.

Ponds isn’t like other vode. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t sob, doesn’t _rage_ , not like Wolffe would. He just...breaks. And it’s scary, sometimes, his silence.

For a long while, the three of them just stay there. Mace holds Ponds and Boba hugs him. Neither of them says anything, which is good, Ponds thinks. Because otherwise, he might just lose it.

* * *

“Master Fay!”

The Sephi jumps at the sound of Tae’s voice, already taking two steps in his direction. Something is wrong; the young man’s voice trembles and his cry is desperate. Furthermore, the group wasn’t supposed to be back for another hour at least.

Fay finds him outside with Beru and Owen, who returned some time ago, the former of whom is helping a collapsed Jon, who’s just expended a massive amount of energy in teleporting three people across the planet. Owen, meanwhile, is leaning over Tae and the body he holds up. She joins them, hurriedly checking the unconscious man’s pulse-- alive, she thinks, and lets out a breath of relief.

“We have to bring him inside, Tae,” she warns the Padawan. He doesn’t look up. “Tae!”

Tae has his forehead pressed against the other man’s, whispering frantically. He runs his fingers through long brown hair as he speaks, words nearly incoherent, though she can catch a few of them.

Jon, helped to his feet by Beru, speaks hoarsely. “He’s stuck in a feedback loop. Dooku used mental torture, Tae tried to help, and now--”

“Out here will do then,” Fay huffs.

Oh, Tae. His great big heart always gets him into trouble, but this time could be _deadly_ if the young man’s memories are that bad. The psychic backlash feeding into Tae’s mind must be more than painful. She wonders as she kneels beside them how weakened this man’s shields are, if Tae got in without resistance.

“Will Ani be okay?” Owen asks, looking between Fay and Tae.

Fay’s eyes widen. “Ani? Anakin Skywalker?”

That would explain everything, actually. 

“That’s him,” he confirms. “Is he--?”

“He’ll be fine when I’m through, Owen. Help Jon,” she instructs, glad that he follows immediately.

Placing her hands on Anakin’s ripped robes, Fay feels a surge of protective fury that she can only tuck back into her mind to deal with later. Yan Dooku has done many heinous things, but she’d hoped he would never stoop so low as to do this to his own great-grandpadawan.

“Worry not, little ones,” she murmurs to both Tae and Anakin. “I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the week-late update! I meant to post last weekend, but my throat condition decided to fuck me over. this is also the last chapter I have pre-written, so it may be a long wait again :/


	7. in the rain i found you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving on Kamino the 501st and 212th are greeted by Generals Shaak Ti and Depa Billaba, their Padawans, and their commanders. On Tatooine, Cody wakes up to find that his connection with the Force is no longer subtle.
> 
> Translations: Buir - parent, Jetiise - Jedi (plural), Jetii - Jedi (singular), vode - siblings, vod - sibling  
> Word Count: 3,189

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of filler in the first part, because I need to establish characters and relationships, unfortunately. Cody refuses to curse, I think it’s hilarious that he sees Rex kill who he thinks is a vod and is like HECKITY HECK,,,like how do u not say fuck regularly sir ur self-control is immense. Coming up: meeting the shinies, Anakin waking up which is going to be fucking hilarious and soft i promise, Caleb Is Keeping Secrets, and all of u are no doubt wondering what the hell is going on with Mace, Ponds, and Boba while I pretend they don’t exist for like two more chapters

“Stop it,” Rex hisses when Ahsoka fiddles with her vambraces again.

They’re 501st blue, a gift from them on her 15th life day, and she pretty much keeps them on 24/7, but today she seems uncomfortable with them.

“Should I take them off?” Ahsoka asks as they get ready to land. “Is Master Billaba...cool?”

(What she means is: Will Master Billaba take one look at these and give me a lecture on attachment? Most Jedi wouldn’t, but they’ve had a few incidents and now she’s hyper-aware of everything.)

Rex snorts, recalling many group chat notifications. “Commander Grey’s legal name on Naboo is Grey Billaba.” Which is Fox’s fault. Mostly. “Their shiny calls them Buir.”

A smile breaks out on the Togruta’s face. “That’s adorable.”

They’re anxiously awaiting Fox and the generals’ arrival, as they began the final approach to Kamino a few minutes ago. Like Rex, Ahsoka is of the opinion that they should be looking for General Skywalker _before_ thinking about bringing on any more shinies, but unfortunately, the Chancellor himself is insisting on it. General Kenobi and General Kegre both looked viciously ill at the idea of bringing shiny troopers into such a tenuous situation, but the meddling bastard wouldn’t let up.

Rex expected that kind of play, but what really cut was that he used _Cody’s death_ to justify it. Well, Cody’s not-death, to be precise. *It took all of Rex’s training not to snap.

“Hey, Rex?”

He’s broken from his thoughts by Ahsoka’s quiet inquiry. Glancing over at her, he can see her playing with the frayed edges of her robes-- more traditional ones than her other selections, as she picked them out to match General Kenobi for their missions together.

“Yeah?”

“Are you– are you gonna be okay?” she asks suddenly, turning to him. Her blue eyes shine with concern. “Kix says you’ve been acting weird–don’t be mad, I made him tell me–and your Force presence is really...whack.”

Immediately, he pulls up what little shields he has, grateful for the extra training he’s received in dealing with Force-sensitives. “Sorry–”

Ahsoka’s eyes widen. “I’m not worried about _that_ , I’m worried about you! I mean, first Cody and then Skyguy and now we’re going to Kamino to pick up a bunch of shinies…” If Rex were in a better mood, he’d point out that she’s hardly more than a shiny herself. That’s how she knows she’s right to check on him.

Rex sighs. “I’ll be okay,” he says quietly. “When we get him back...I’ll be okay.”

Before he knows it, she’s hugging him tightly, her chin just barely resting on his shoulder. After a second of hesitation, he hugs her back and lets out a deep breath. She’s a good kid, Ahsoka, and he has no doubt that she’ll be the first to figure out what’s off about him. Depending on when they find the general, that might be sooner rather than later.

Just as they separate, the door slides open and the generals enter, Fox a respectful step behind them.

“Masters Ti and Billaba are meeting us on the platform with their Padawans and commanders,” General Kenobi explains to the group. “The troopers are already prepped for departure, so we should be able to leave by 0500 tomorrow.”

General Kegre hums. “Shaak is nothing if not efficient. Ahsoka, did you read up on Kamino?”

“I read half of the entry,” she admits sheepishly. “But then I asked some vode about it! And primary sources are better, right?”

Feemor smiles. “If they’re available. Good job.”

“Have you met Depa’s new Padawan, either of you?” Obi-Wan asks his lineage brother and Fox, who both shake their heads. “I met him once, teaching a class. I think you and he will be fast friends, Ahsoka.”

“Cool,” she says with a grin. “Little brothers are fun.”

Rex gives her a side-eye that says he knows _exactly_ how she’s going to torture that boy in the near future. Being the youngest of the commanders and company, he knows _far too well_. Fox is smiling under his helmet, the bastard.

They depart the ship moments later, exiting onto the landing platform. There, General Shaak Ti and General Depa Billaba are waiting with clone commanders Grey, Colt, and Alpha-17, one of the older batches of clones and the trainer of most of the commanders. (Read: the only person who survived raising them.) Just beside that group is a pair of two Padawans: an older Sullustan girl with her hand on a fluffy-haired boy’s shoulder. He wiggles incessantly under his robes, making Rex and Ahsoka share a look that says ‘ _Sith hells, he’s adorable_.’

“Obi-Wan,” Depa greets, moving to give the younger man a hug. “Any news on Anakin?”

“Nothing concrete, but we have a few leads we intend on chasing,” he informs her grimly, though he takes the hug gratefully.

Shaak Ti trills at Ahsoka, who is pleasantly surprised at the greeting. It’s not often she meets other Togruta, but she lights up when they do. She trills back, head-tails twitching. Rex smiles a little at the exchange.

“Vod,” Grey greets, pulling Rex away to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry about Codes,” they murmur.

“Me too,” he stammers, suddenly grieving for what they must be going through.

Meanwhile, Depa’s little apprentice and Shaak’s less-little one bow to Obi-Wan and Feemor at the same time.

“Elora, I see Kamino’s treated you well,” Feemor says to the older one, tone gentle.

Her smile is without restraint. “Yes, Master, and so has Master Shaak. It’s fun to beat Colt up, too.”

The commander in question scoffs, nudging her fondly, which has the littlest Padawan snickering. He stops the second his Master pulls him in front of her to introduce him. Abandoned by Elora and Colt, who go to speak with Shaak and Ahsoka, he turns bright red.

“Obi-Wan, I believe you and Caleb have met.”

“I remember it fondly,” he replies, hiding his smirk. “Is Depa torturing you yet, little one?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “No, Master, she’s the _best_.”

“And you have just earned ice cream next time we’re on Coruscant,” she praises, all teasing, though he grins at it anyway.

“General Kenobi,” Alpha says as he approaches, “good to see you again, sir.”

Obi-Wan brightens at the sight of him, the two exchanging greetings. “And you, Alpha. Ah, this is my brother, Feemor. Feemor, this is Alpha-17. We served together before–”

The sudden cut-off is felt in the awkward silence. Feemor covers for him in an instant, but the grief in the Force is easy for his fellow Jedi to pick up. Caleb, still standing in front of Depa, frowns and shudders, remembering his buir’s nightmare.

“I’ve heard all about you,” Feemor says, clasping the man’s wrist.

Alpha raises an eyebrow. “All terrible things, I hope.”

The laugh he receives has him smirking and, across the way, three siblings share horrified looks.

“Oh no,” Grey laments, grimacing. “He has that look on his face again.”

Rex, who thankfully spent less time with the older clone than his vode did, squints. “What face?”

“The face that says he’s going to add another tally to the inside of his armour by the end of the week,” Fox groans. “He’s such Jetii bait, I swear–”

His little brother goes _pale_. “ _That’s_ what the tallies are for!?”

“Just be glad you heard it from us and not him,” Grey snorts.

He makes a gagging noise. “Ugh. I didn’t wanna know at all.”

“At least we know General Ti hasn’t fallen for that disaster,” Fox says, never more certain.

Grey shrugs. “Eh, more likely that’s Colt’s fault.” They both look at them with furrowed eyebrows and they snicker. “Oh, c’mon. They’re obviously bang– oh, hey, buddy.”

Rex badly hides a smile at the little figure tugging at their wrist.

“Buir, can I go with Elora to show Ahsoka around?” Caleb asks, smiling innocently.

They raise an eyebrow. “Did you ask Depa?”

“She said to ask you,” he chirps, glancing back at his Master, who nods. “If I don’t go, Elora is gonna forget to show her the creche!”

Rex glances at Fox, who rolls his eyes. It wasn't exactly called a creche until the Jedi came. They didn’t have a name for it before then. Fox thinks it’s a little silly how much their little vode are growing up like Jetiise, but Rex thinks it’s adorable. 

“Alright, but keep your comm on you!” Grey calls, the sentence half a shout as Caleb dashes off before they’re finished.

“Thanks!” he shouts back, waving.

“That’s fucking cute,” Rex decides.

Grey smiles a little. “Wait until you see Alpha with him. It’s disgusting.”

* * *

Cody wakes up groggy, which is unsurprising. What is surprising is that he wakes up to an argument. It makes absolutely no sense because General Kenobi doesn’t argue like _that_ , in half-whispers and too many curse words to count.

“What the kriff–?” he starts to ask, trying to sit up.

A voice cuts through the two bickering, reminding him abruptly that he’s not in the med-bay on the _Negotiator_. “Knol, Nico, take it outside. Tae, you too.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re projecting and Cody’s shields are weak right now. You know Anakin will be safe. Take a walk,” Fay chides, watching the young man huff on his way out.

When Cody finally manages to sit up, having barely registered her words, Fay’s hand is on his shoulder helping him up. *Dizziness comes with consciousness, much to his dismay. The entire world feels like it’s _buzzing_ , too, which doesn’t help. 

“Cody, can you hear me?” Fay asks quietly.

He nods, but when the movement makes him nauseous, he has to stop. “What the heck kind of sedatives did he give me?”

“Strong ones,” she says amusedly as she sits in front of him. “But I believe what you’re feeling is different.”

“Jetiise stuff?” he assumes with the face of a man who has suffered much at the hands of his idiot General and company. She nods and he groans. “I regret this already.”

She chuckles. “I believe the Force is easier for you to reach now that the chip has been removed. Your presence is easier for me to sense, at least. It was almost as if you...woke up when it was removed. How does it feel from your end?”

“Like everything is vibrating,” he says with a frown.

Thankfully, his advanced training on Kamino dealt with Force-sensitive aspects, like defending your mind from psychic damage or attacks. He knows how to pull up rudimentary shields and he’s gotten plenty of practice, too, just trying to keep Commander Tano from being snoopy, as adorable as her attempts are. Cody takes in a deep breath and does what he can, though the grogginess makes it a tad more difficult than usual.

“That was well done,” Fay compliments. “You’re a quick learner; that’s good. You’ll need it.”

He snorts. “I can’t wait to suffer. It’s my life’s purpose.”

She rolls her eyes a little, which makes him grin. That’s the first time she’s done that since they met. _Success_ , his traitorous mind supplies.

“I want to try something if you’re up for it.” At his nod, she continues. “Close your eyes and tell me where the others are. Don’t listen for their voices, just feel for _them_ , myself included.”

He does as she asks, but isn’t sure where to start. How is he supposed to tell a _presence_ from the rest of the universe? Cody reaches out to her, instead, trying to answer that question. Light, he realises. She’s a light compared to everything, one that gets brighter and moves almost teasingly about.

“Good,” she says and he can hear her smile. “Out of curiosity, how do Force presences appear to you?”

“Lights,” he says immediately. “Bright ones.”

Fay hums, curiosity in her voice. She wants to ask if she feels warm or cold, how he sees her, but she refrains.

“They’re...underwater, sort of. No, rain,” he amends, furrowing his eyebrows as he thinks, which she thinks is a handsome expression. “They stand out.”

“Interesting.”

It’s similar to hers, she can’t help but think. She sees much in the Force, but the core of a person has always appeared as light to her, light in the darkness. His is appropriate for a clone of Kamino and hers speaks of her own life as well.

“See if you can find the others,” she suggests gently. “But go slowly.”

Cody extends his reach through the house, taking deep breaths. It’s difficult to find lights in the distance at first, but then he comes across the first one by accident, as it’s quite bright.

The first is a flickering light, flashing and poking at nothing, like a whirling sandstorm.

“Tae,” he decides, remembering that Fay said he was projecting.

The second is nearby, a muted sort of thing that reaches out curiously to Cody as he pokes it. It’s amused, he thinks, as it lets him in and becomes a bright, shining light.

“Jon?” he asks, not quite realising that he, too, is projecting.

Jon’s light gives a little confirmation, surprised but pleased.

Cody darts away, leaving him be. He nudges at two duller lights near Jon, coming to the conclusion that those two must be Beru and Owen. They’re...muted, in a way that’s different from what Jon’s light-- signature? General Kenobi called it that once, he thinks-- was. Jon’s is intentional, an attempt to draw himself in so as not to bother others. Beru and Owen, however, are simply...less. People who aren’t Force-sensitive.

“Very good, Cody. Knol and Nico?”

He nods somewhat absentmindedly, following the buzz of two more distant signatures. Chasing after them, he finds that the space around them is more...lit up than where the others are. It muffles their lights a little, but not much. It’s like it’s _part_ of them, or like they’re part of _it_ , which he doesn’t quite understand.

“The Force is easier felt outside,” Fay explains. “And on a planet deep in the Force, even more so. You’ll see.”

Prodding gently at the outside lights– which he probably shouldn’t do, but he can pull the newbie card– he receives an answer immediately in the form of a Force-tackle. Knol, he decides as he nearly slams back into his own self out of shock. She’s radiating pride and excitement, all for his new accomplishment. Nico’s pride is more subdued, a pat on the shoulder of sorts like one might give a cadet or a Padawan. Cody snorts.

Then, a ringing version of Knol’s voice echoes in his head: _Not bad, Commander!_

He winces. “What the kriff–?”

She nudges at his shields, an apology of sorts.

“Excellent, for a first-timer. At least you didn’t go into it like a rampaging youngling,” Fay chuckles. “Come back now.”

He does, careful but certain. “So that’s how Jetiise communicate over long distances.”

“Actually, most of us do it through Force-bonds, which are more personal than simple projection, like Knol just did,” she says. “They vary on an individual basis, but the strongest ones can hear each other from half a planet away without ever speaking.”

Cody’s eyes widened, a realisation striking him. “I heard you earlier, in my head, I mean. You didn’t speak, but–”

She nods, smiling somewhat...sheepishly? “Yes, that would be my fault. You reached out when you had your vision and, not realising that you’re Force-sensitive, I reached back.”

“So...you’ve been hearing my thoughts the whole time?”

 _Heck_ , he thinks viciously. That would be bad, if only because then she must know about the feelings he’s been developing, as stupid as they are.

“Your shields are decent, so, no, except a few that you’ve been projecting. Your passive shields didn’t know we had a connection, so they kept me out, too,” she explains, smiling mischievously. “We’ll work on that in your training. Although, I’m wary of starting before our new guest wakes up.”

“New–?” Cody looks around on instinct, though he finds the room empty.

Fay raises a challenging eyebrow and he grins, all teeth. Reaching out into the Force, he ignores the tempting flashes of light that are the Masters and Tae, instead feeling a tug in another direction. He finds a light brighter than any he’s felt so far, one that nearly blinds his senses. It’s...familiar, in a weird way.

He frowns. “I know them.” Opening his eyes, he sees that Fay’s expression has lit up.

“You do. The others raided a local slaver’s hangout and Tae found Count Dooku’s personal prisoner: Anakin Skywalker.”

Cody’s eyes widen. “General Skywalker?” He grimaces. “I leave for a few rotations and he gets _kidnapped_.”

She hums. “Very indicative of Master Yoda’s lineage, wouldn’t you say?”

“Force, don’t I know it,” he sighs, frowning when her presence sparks with hidden amusement, something she isn’t sharing. “Is he okay?”

“He is...recovering. I was able to heal his physical injuries, but Dooku was far from kind with his torture,” she admits with a deep exhale. “His shields are shattered and I fear he’s only hanging on mentally because of Tae’s influence. He’s a telepath and, well, when he felt Anakin’s pain, he couldn’t stop himself. He only wanted to help.”

“Tae spoke about him...fondly,” Cody says, implying much but saying little.

Her smile is sad, grieving what Tae has lost in order to help them chase the unfindable. “I don’t know the details, but they grew close on Jabiim. When Nico asked Tae to come with us, he didn’t hesitate for a moment, but his uncle hesitated in asking. Between Anakin and Elora...he might have been much happier at the Temple.”

“The general might not have made it if Tae wasn’t here,” he reminds her, speaking from what he can gather of the incident anyway. 

She nods. “And thank the Force for it. I only hope his presence doesn’t compromise our mission, especially now that we have this.”

From her robes, she reveals a small, clear container of transparisteel that holds the bane of Cody’s existence inside it. The chip that was in his head sits in a cage, but simply being in its presence is enough to make him shiver. The darkness emanating from it is clear in his senses now. He touches a hand to the new scar on his head, where a small patch of his hair has been shaved. It looks mildly ridiculous, but he hadn’t wanted to look anything like Waxer. He wouldn’t have been able to look in a mirror without feeling guilty.

“He’s good with tech,” Cody musters, clearing his throat. “General Skywalker. He can probably figure out what that thing is for.”

“That would be preferable to seeking outside sources,” she decides. “Sources which will be unreachable where we’re going.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Where _are_ we going?”

She grins, mischief alight in her eyes, very akin to the shifting, mysterious light that is her presence in the Force. “I did tell you that you would get to feel a planet deep in the Force, didn’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday update! i literally finished this last night so it's a miracle it even got posted LMAO.  
> i also started a new project, a quinobi fic to add onto my two other quinobi one-shots except this one actually has plot including a maul redemption and lots of young versions of ur favourite characters. if that tickles u, u can find it on my profile!  
> i've decided that i'm going to try to update every friday, this fic one week, the other the next, and then repeat. so next week i'll hopefully be posting the next chapter of the quinobi fic and the week after that will be this one again, if that makes sense? i've never done consistent updates before, so pls bear with me. love y'all!


	8. still i say there's a way for us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Kamino, because I’ve somehow forgotten that there are other plotlines going on right now, Shaak points out two specific shinies to Obi-Wan, who promises to keep an eye on them and the weird shit the Force is putting out around them. Caleb is lost in dreams with someone that may or may not be his imagination, only to wake up in tears. Alpha-17 takes care of his pseudo-grandchild before going back to his latest fling, which is...turning out to be more than a fling. Oh god. So many plotlines.
> 
> Translations: vode - siblings, vod - sibling, buir - parent, Jetiise - Jedi (plural)  
> Word Count: 3,285

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised Anakin waking up but uh I did not realise the Kamino stuff would end up so long. Also, TUP AND DOGMA!!! Yes, they are also plot relevant and yes that was an accident too. I hope all this stuff isn’t confusing! Please let me know if you want more details/POVs from any certain characters, because I’d love to write them! (Also...Fox & Ahsoka and Caleb & Alpha are the cutest motherfuckers, I swear,,,look at those nerds. Look at those Big, Tough guys with two smart, precious kiddos. I love them.)  
> also uh. shit's crazy right now, huh? the elections, putin, destiel (ugh don't get me started)...and here I am, coping with space wizards. What a wild world.  
> Title is from On My Own from Les Mis! It was playing while I posted this, which is apparently how I name chapters now

That afternoon, as storms rage over the horizon, the newest shinies of the 501st have the honour of hearing their general speak to them for the first time. Of course, their real general is unavailable at the moment, so Feemor takes his place, Rex loyally at his side. Behind them, Generals Ti, Billaba, and Kenobi are whispering fervently. The shinies no doubt think they’re planning, assessing, or something equally important, but really they’re just gossipping.

“This batch is equally as reckless as the others you’ve sent to the 501st, I assume,” Depa comments dryly, eyeing Shaak knowingly.

Shaak grins, all teeth, which makes her Human and Chalactan companions shudder. “Of course.” Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention, she nudges them in the Force, directing _their_ attention to a particular squad.

They follow her direction, only to find that the Force whirls and tugs unusually.

Around two clones in particular, the Force is muddled…thoughtful, even.

“Intriguing,” Obi-Wan hums.

“Tup and Dogma,” Shaak supplies, nodding along. “I felt the Force pull them toward your battalions, but for what I don’t know.”

Depa smiles, a mischievous and fond thing as she glances at Obi-Wan.

“Don’t you dare,” he deadpans.

“The Force works—”

“ _Depa_.”

“—in mysterious ways,” she finishes, the epitome of grace.

Shaak only chuckles, a hand pressed to her lips to hide her smile.

Obi-Wan sighs deeply, resisting the urge to Force-push the hood of Depa’s robe over her head. “I’ll watch for them,” he tells Shaak, certain that it’s true.

On the opposite side of the room, Fox stands away from his other vode, closer to the door. Why becomes clear when the three Padawans stumble in, muffling laughter and whispers as they shove each other playfully. Ahsoka motions her new friends onward, standing beside Fox as the two rejoin their Masters.

“Have fun?” Fox asks, telling himself that he’s only asking because Padmé would want him to.

“Kriff yeah,” she snorts.

He gives her a look that would melt most shinies. “Watch your mouth.” When she sticks her tongue out at him, he rolls his eyes. “You talk to Rex?”

Ahsoka lowers her volume immediately, glancing across the way at the captain. “Yeah. He’s...weird. In the Force, he’s super jumbled and confused, which makes sense, but he’s not _upset_. Something’s wrong.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” he sighs, sparing a glance at his brother.

Rex looks as stoic as ever, standing next to his temporary general in front of his new men, but Fox can tell something is off. Colt, Alpha, and Grey haven’t seen it, or at least they haven’t said anything about it, which is mildly concerning.

“We’re gonna find out what’s up with him, right?” Ahsoka asks, looking to him with a raised brow.

“No karking shit, kid,” Fox scoffs. He pauses, though, a hand to his chin as he thinks. “Was Rex the one who found Cody’s body?”

Ahsoka winces. He tells himself never to ask her anything about that day again.

“There...wasn’t a body,” she admits uneasily. “Just his armour. It happened to a few of the— the others who were closer to the explosion.”

He frowns. That doesn’t sound right. Cody would’ve been farther away, from what he gathered from the report, but then again there are a hundred different ways things could have gone wrong. Still. _All_ of his armour survived? And not a single trace of _him_?

Fox is going to get to the bottom of this.

As General Kegre’s speech concludes, he sighs. Not tonight, though. No, he’ll need plenty of sleep to deal with the entirety of Cody’s job, not to mention the new 501st shinies. Tonight, he’s not waking up for anything, not even the end of the karking universe.

* * *

As every other night before, the rain of Kamino is more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to Caleb’s sleep. He tosses and turns for what feels like hours— though, admittedly, it’s only minutes— before his thoughts of training and family fade into unconsciousness.

The boy doesn’t realise it at first, the feeling of sand under his fingers. His mind is focused on what he, Elora, and Ahsoka might do tomorrow before the latter departs.

But when he shifts, finally noticing the sudden change, his eyes fly open.

Caleb sits up carefully, finding that his room on Kamino is no longer there. Instead, he’s in a desert, sand underneath him and buildings around him. The dreamscape is fuzzy, as it always is, for all his training to remember details, but he thinks they may be made of an off-white stone of some kind. The streets are empty of people; there are no faces, no voices, only silence. It’s oddly reassuring, in the way the Temple could be in the middle of the night. It’s difficult to tell whether this is his own dream or someone else’s. In fact, unless he knows the person, it’s quite impossible for him to ever know.

He runs his fingers through the sand, noticing that he can’t actively _feel_ it.

Nothing here is real, he knows. He’ll remember some of it when he awakes, maybe most of it, but he won’t be able to describe much of it in words. Sight is the best sense in dreams, but sometimes he feels as if he more _knows_ his surroundings are there rather than seeing them himself. It’s less an experience and more of something...innate. The more he practises in his special awareness training, the more he can know of his dreams the next morning.

“Oh. You’re here.”

Caleb brightens immensely, resembling a small sun. Whirling around, though he’s still on the ground, he’s met with a familiar face. Sort of.

The mysterious boy has appeared to Caleb for longer than he can remember, ever-shifting and changing, but somehow the same. He could never describe him to another person, he doesn’t think, not in terms they could understand, but he will never, _ever_ fail to recognise him. Unknowing of the boy’s appearance, the only thing Caleb can be sure of is the way he feels in the Force: a light subdued but so, _so_ tempting. It burns and flickers with each shift of emotion, quick and reckless and unafraid: everything Caleb _isn’t_.

“You!” he cries, leaping to his feet. “It’s been _forever_ , I was worried!”

He'd gone _months_ without seeing this strange boy before, but with Commander Cody’s death and his buir’s grief, the two weeks he’s been absent have felt longer than ever. The last time they met, they were on a jungle planet.

“It hasn’t been _that_ long,” the boy chides as if he isn’t happy to see him.

(He is. Caleb knows it like he knows his own name. The knowledge of what the boy feels is more solid than anything else he’s ever dreamed of.)

Despite the boy’s dry remarks, Caleb hugs him, overjoyed. “You missed me,” he accuses.

“Maybe a little,” the boy admits with a scoff.

Looking around, Caleb frowns. “Where are we?”

“The worst place in the galaxy, ugh. At best, we’ll find trouble.”

“We’re good at that,” he snickers.

The dreams are mostly faded, but he knows they’ve been on countless adventures. They’ve been hunted and pranked and tripped up more times than he’s ever attempted to recall, but each adventure has been worth every moment. It’s honestly a wonder he wakes up with any energy at all with what they get into. On the jungle planet two weeks before, they found a tribe of tookas and found themselves adopted. Caleb will never get his companion to admit to how much fun that was.

A crash comes from nearby and they both jump. Then, they share a glance, both filled with the joy of pre-teen boys about to cause trouble.

“C’mon!” Caleb cries, grabbing the boy’s hand and dragging him along.

The warmth of it surprises him, as does every touch they share. Sounds, tastes, and smells are difficult, as is touch with objects, but the touch of _life_ is so vivid it hurts.

Tonight’s adventures consist of an angry Trandoshan who the boy stole the datapad of...for some reason, a massive purple—why purple, he doesn’t know— dragon, and a speeder chase through an empty desert city. The boy seems genuinely terrified at times, but by the end of it, both he and Caleb are wheezing with laughter, their faces sore from smiling.

The boy collapses in the sand, his quiet chuckles just barely able to be heard now.

“That was _awesome_ ,” Caleb gasps out, falling to his knees beside him.

A snort comes from his companion. “The womp-rats were a nice touch. I swear, you—”

He stops abruptly, suddenly attentive as he sits up. 

Caleb frowns, tugging on his tunic. “What is it?”

“Do you hear that?”

He listens for a long moment before shaking his head. There aren’t any noises, he thinks, not anything obvious, anyway. But maybe this is another part of the dream.

The boy’s face falls. “He’s calling me. I have to go.”

“Oh. That didn’t last long, huh?” Caleb asks miserably.

“Guess not,” he murmurs, equally as disappointed as he looks down.

Caleb shuffles forward in the sand to sit knee-to-knee with him. “I could— I’ll stay with you. Until you go.”

The boy looks up abruptly, face twisted into something Caleb doesn’t understand. His presence is muddled with disappointment and...hope? It feels a little something like that. Caleb didn’t notice it before, but his eyes are a striking golden-brown.

“But you’ll wake up,” the boy reminds him, attempting to sound like a warning but it’s more of a plea than anything else.

Caleb can’t help but reach out, grabbing his hand. “That’s okay. You shouldn’t be alone.”

It is true that if he doesn’t leave now and find himself tied up in another adventure, he’ll wake up before morning arrives. But it’s also a fact that the boy doesn’t _want_ him to go. These dreams of theirs always start out...quiet, with a lack of people around. Caleb doesn’t know if it’s his love of the quiet or the boy’s fear of it that summons it— something that depends on whether the boy is real or not— but he knows it makes him uneasy anyway. The boy doesn’t want to be left alone in the quiet, so Caleb won’t leave him.

The boy squeezes his hand. Unsure of himself, Caleb leans forward, like he’s seen his buir do with their vode countless times before, and rests his forehead on the boy’s shoulder. Much to his pleasant surprise, the boy takes it in stride, putting an arm around Caleb’s shoulders to hold him close.

“Do you think I’ll see you again?” he murmurs.

He always asks and Caleb always answers the same way, their own little promise.

“I hope so,” Caleb whispers back, meaning every word.

He can’t tell exactly when the boy disappears, but he can feel himself starting to come back to consciousness and grieves at the sensation.

When Caleb finally wakes up, he stares at the ceiling for a long time, his hand _burning_ with the last remnants of the boy’s touch. He swears, sometimes, that he can still feel the warmth of him even hours after his dreams. Details are so impossible to remember, but that boy’s voice and his touch are as easy to keep as air.

Caleb rolls over and buries his face in his pillow to quiet his sobs.

Every dream of him ends like this, or something similar because every dream could be his _last_. He doesn’t even know if the boy is _real_ , if everything they’ve done together is a figment of his desperate imagination. Caleb wishes— more than anything he’s ever wanted before— that he could just _know_. He’d rather know for sure whether or not he’ll ever meet the boy with his own eyes, his real eyes rather than live in constant fear of every interaction being their last.

He trembles as he cries, both from the force of them and the cold of Kamino, despite the two blankets somewhat covering him.

Admittedly, he’s never told anyone about the boy in particular, his repetitive presence in his dreams. He’s been having them for a long time, a _lifetime_ , it feels like, ever since he can remember. Back at the Temple, whenever he woke up crying for a boy that wasn’t there, Cal would cuddle up with him in a bunk and comfort him until he could sleep again. Cal Kestis, a year or so younger than him, has always been Caleb’s best friend, but even he knows there are things about his abilities that he can’t understand, just like Caleb with his psychometry.

This is one of them. This is something he thinks _nobody_ can understand: the fear of not knowing whether someone so important is actually... _real_. Is _out there_ , somewhere.

Caleb sobs again, but stops abruptly when a gentle rapping sounds at his door.

“Hey, buddy,” a clone’s voice says quietly. “You okay in there?”

Alpha-17, he realises, when he investigates with the Force.

He mumbles out a ‘No’ that’s mostly muffled by his pillow.

A pause.

“...do you want company?”

Alpha could barge in if he wanted to; Caleb keeps his door open, seeing as the Force will warn him of any impending danger. But he’s waiting for the boy’s go-ahead, which he deeply appreciates. At the moment, though, he doesn’t really feel like baring his soul.

But a hug might be nice.

The moment he says yes, there’s some shuffling outside—apparently, Master Kegre is out there, too, but he keeps a respectful distance—before the door opens and in waltzes Alpha.

He plops down on Caleb’s bed, drags the boy into his arms, and lets out a deep breath, knowing that all three of those things will have him melting immediately. Caleb stops shaking, letting the vod tuck him under his chin and hold him close.

Caleb, that pain of goodbye still burning white-hot in his chest, cries a little more, the shoulder of Alpha’s blacks taking the brunt of the tears.

When he’s finally down to just sniffles, Alpha speaks.

“Bad dreams?” he murmurs in the ever-buzzing quiet of the cloning facilities.

Caleb pauses, but shakes his head and wipes his eyes with the edge of his sleeve.

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

Again, he hesitates. “You wouldn’t—” his voice cracks, making him flush red as he clears his throat. “—get it.”

Alpha shrugs. “Maybe not, but talking about it might make you feel better.”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbles.

Snorting, Alpha runs a hand through his hair. “Can’t be stupider than the time Grey got stuck in the vents, buddy.”

Caleb snickers, blinking fast to clear the last of his tears. “I was— I was dreaming. Good dreams. There was this boy and— and we were friends. He was my _friend_ and when it was over, when I woke up—” He stops when his voice gets rough, shaking his head.

“You missed him,” Alpha finishes, his fingers still carding through the boy’s messy locks.

He nods. “See? Stupid.”

(Nobody but the Council, his Master, his buir, his former crechemates, and the higher-ranked clones in their battalion know about his abilities, for his safety. Caleb doesn’t understand why his dream-sharing might be a danger, but he trusts the Council enough not to blab. In this case, Alpha thinks he’s missing someone he’s only seen in a dream once and someone that, furthermore, cannot _possibly_ be real.)

“If it’s stupid, I owe my batchmates more than a few credits,” his buir’s buir declares.

(No, neither of them has _said_ that he’s practically Grey’s buir, but Caleb made the observation himself. He just needs to figure out what the Mando’a equivalent of Grandmaster is.)

“Huh?” Caleb asks dumbly.

“Same thing has happened to me more than a few times, bud,” Alpha says warmly, tucking him in closer.

His eyes widen as he looks up. “Really?”

“Really.” He sighs. “I get it. You get to know this whole other person, do crazy shit with them and then you wake up and...they’re gone. For good. An entire human being that you cared about erased in an instant. You’ll never see them again because they were never there in the first place.”

He speaks softly, in that way grown-ups do when they’re trying not to make themselves sad. Caleb reaches up to wrap his arms around Alpha’s neck, dragging him into a hug.

“Life sucks,” Caleb declares.

Alpha laughs, hugging back. “Yeah, it does.” He tugs gently at Caleb’s shirt to get a good look at him. “But just because he isn’t real out here doesn’t mean he isn’t real in _here_.”

Caleb stares down at where Alpha pokes his chest, looking back up at him with a huff. “That’s the cheesiest bantha shit you’ve ever said.”

“And it’ll be the _only_ cheesy thing you ever hear me say if you tell your buir,” he warns.

Despite himself, Caleb is smiling. Alpha is the only one he can curse in front of without getting a look, so long as he doesn’t overdo it, and though this is the first time Alpha’s had to deal with him breaking down, he’s done way better than Caleb thought he might. No wonder the commanders turned out as good as they are.

“You feel better?” Alpha asks, breaking him from his thoughts. “Think you can sleep?”

Caleb nods and hugs him again. “Thanks.”

“Always, buddy,” he promises, ruffling his hair fondly. “C’mon, I’ll tuck you in.”

Caleb shuffles back under his covers, tucking his arm under his pillow while Alpha makes sure the blankets are snug around him. When he’s comfortable, Alpha kisses his forehead and wishes him a goodnight, leaving just as his eyes start to shut of their own accord.

“Is he alright?” Feemor asks, having lingered far enough away not to eavesdrop.

Alpha straightens a little, nodding. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Just a rough night.”

To be honest, Alpha hadn’t been expecting to get on so well with General Kegre. Sure, he’s attractive and he’d intended on flirting him into the ground, but he’s so... _nice_. He’s a gentle giant for sure and it kind of took Alpha-17 off guard. The man is kind, patient, and eerily aware of his surroundings. A lot of Jetiise are like that, but this guy is great at reading people in a terrifying way.

He’s had plenty of Jetiise in his bed, enough to horrify his commanders to the point of hilarity, but Feemor is...something else.

“You’re good with younglings,” Feemor comments almost off-handedly, though it’s more of a question.

Alpha snorts. “Yeah, I had to raise a couple of suckers, I think you’ve met them.”

He chuckles, which makes Alpha inordinately prideful. “You raised them well. You know, I’ve thought of searching for a Padawan myself.”

“Let me guess— don’t want to in a warzone?” he hums.

He nods, conceding the point. “That and, well.” He’s a bit sheepish, red painting his cheeks. “The only experience I have with younglings is with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka.”

Alpha busts out laughing. “They weren’t shining examples, huh?”

“Not at _all_ ,” Feemor agrees, horror in his voice.

“You should see the creche next time you’re here, meet the little vode,” he suggests, a suggestion which he has _never made in his life before_ . The little ones are his charges, his _duty_ , and he’s very protective of them. “They’re little shits, but at least they know how to listen. Most of the time.”

Feemor only smiles and takes Alpha’s arm, catching him off-guard _again_. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Yeah. He’s karked.


	9. what the hell would i be without you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cody and Fay meditate again, this time to work on his connection with the Force and how to manage their mental bond. Anakin finally awakes, only to find two dead people in the room. Tae and Anakin reunite properly while the Masters and Cody discuss what Knol and Nico have been fighting about in the background.
> 
> Translations: None! First chapter without Mando’a, wow  
> Word Count: 3,403

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very sexy of me to keep switching POVs just when y’all get curious, huh? I think we’ll be with Tatooine Gang for at least another chapter, possibly more. Also, I think I’m finally figuring out how this whole thing is going to end, I just have to...get there. Yikes. Anyway, have some Cody/Fay and Anakin/Tae content :D Title is from Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie because I'm bisexual.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“It will if you focus.”

Cody, though closed eyes and gritted teeth, _seethes_ . “They’re _annoying_.”

“Ignore them,” Fay says, her voice tinged with amusement. “When you meditate, there is only you and the Force. Don’t tell me you don’t have practise ignoring annoying people, Cody.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “This is different.”

“It is, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

They’re meditating again, outside in the sand this time. It’s easier to feel the Force in a natural environment and to focus on meditation. Well, it would be if Nico and Knol hadn’t been arguing for the last hour. Loudly. It’s less of an argument and more of a shouting match, but enough gibberish that Cody can’t figure out what it’s about. Trying to ‘let the Force carry him’ is nearly impossible with whatever the hell they’re spitting about.

He’s starting to think that Fay told them to fight just to make this harder. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her.

Cody takes in a deep breath.

Seeing as he’s still recovering, they’ve decided to focus on the sensation of the Force and keeping one’s head while people are pissing said one off.

He shakes the thought away. Other people are out of his control. What he _can_ control is how he reacts. Releasing the tension in his shoulders, he tries to focus on the Force humming around him instead of Knol and Nico’s voices or their furious signatures.

Letting the anger fall away is easier than it should be. Falling back into the comfort of the Force’s warmth is...something Cody wishes he knew how to do a long time ago.

Here, in its blanket, there are no raging voices. There is no war, no injury, no orders to be followed. There is simply Cody and the Force. Fay is there, too, an ever-shining light on the desert’s horizon. Letting the last of his irritation slip away, he reaches out to her, treading on the edge of her light politely.

He thinks he can feel her smile; she’s certainly brighter as she reaches back. It feels almost like the chill of her always-cold fingers on his hands. He’d missed the feeling.

 _I told you it would work_.

Cody nearly jumps at the sound of her voice.

The bond, he realises. She’s speaking across it. It takes up a special place in his mind, a warm presence that’s a soft echo of her own. When she speaks, it becomes stronger, a ringing song inside his head.

 _How are you doing that?_ He thinks, then realises she’s heard it when her laughter reaches across the bridge. _Oh_.

Aloud, Fay speaks. “How did your instructors teach you to build shields?”

Cody thinks for a moment, then attempts to tell her through the bond instead, wanting practice. _They told us it was building defences in your mind by strengthening your mental capacity._ He thinks, briefly, of a few memories and wonders if she saw them.

 _I see_ she replies, confirming it. _Jedi tend to do so more...literally, but we can work on that later._

“For now,” she says, “I want to work on closing off the bond. For your privacy.”

He’s almost, _almost_ relieved, but lets his mind stay carefully blank just in case. Her finding out about his stupid crush is about the worst thing that could happen right now.

“Think of the bond like a hallway. Or a bridge. Something easily blocked,” she explains. “Most find it easier to think of your end like a door that can be opened and shut with a thought.”

 _Or a bridge with barricades?_ He suggests.

_If that’s easier, but something that requires less effort may be better in a pinch._

He nods, not sure if she can tell or not, and inhales deeply. A door. A door. It’s just a door. All he has to do is close off that little bit of presence she has in his mind.

Mentally tapping a keypad, he attempts to shut that door.

And in a moment, she’s gone.

Well, not gone. Simply...dulled. That presence in his head is quiet and the only thing he can feel of her is her own presence, where she sits across from him on the sand.

Immediately, he opens the door again, missing the warmth.

Her pleasure is bright and comforting as she returns. _Well done! I knew you’d catch on quickly_. _Now_ — She cuts herself off.

 _Fay?_ He questions, letting himself hover at the edges of her presence concernedly.

She brightens. _I think Anakin is waking up._

 _Couldn’t he have waited a few hours? Or days?_ Cody thinks before he can stop himself. Fay’s laughter is loud and clear across the bridge between them.

* * *

Anakin wakes up with a splitting headache and sore muscles, but he’s on a soft bed and he isn’t actively bleeding, so things are already going much better than before. Although, his robes seem to have gone missing.

And someone is...someone is running their fingers through his hair, which has clearly been washed. Without opening his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sleepy noise, causing the person to hesitate.

“Ani?”

His eyes fly open. Though his vision is fuzzy, he catches sight of brown eyes and grey hair.

“Tae?” he asks, voice croaking.

Anakin blinks away the exhaustion, his sight clearing enough that Tae’s features are all clear to him now. He reaches up to—well, he’s not sure. Maybe to touch him, to feel that he’s real but he changes his mind at the last second.

His senses are dulled by Dooku’s torture but that doesn’t stop him from sensing another person enter the room.

He squints.

Cody squints back, amused.

“Well, fuck,” Anakin declares. “Now I know I’m dead.”

Cody snorts like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day and Anakin didn’t watch Rex—from afar—say his remembrances. He does it like his death isn’t all over the Holonet, like the 212th hasn’t been a massive darkness in the Force because of his absence.

The commander—former commander?—hands Tae a bottle of something. “Fay says he should take these with a meal. I’ll leave you two alone.”

“You get your ass back here—” Anakin tries to sit up, hissing with the pain.

“Careful,” Tae murmurs, helping him up.

Anakin looks between them both like he’s seeing things and, frankly, he might be. Uncertain, he reaches forward and...pokes Cody in the chest.

“What the _hell?_ ” he says, looking up at him. “What the _hell?_ ”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, General,” Cody says dryly.

Anakin launches himself from the bed and drags Cody into a hug, feeling the other man freeze in his arms. “I thought you were dead!” He pulls back, glaring. “ _Rex_ thinks you’re dead!”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t. I left him a message.”

He gawks, offended. “I’m gonna kill him.” Then, he remembers Ahsoka, who noticed his odd behaviour, and tilts his head. “Ahsoka might get his ass first.”

Cody rolls his eyes, a touch of fondness in the gesture. “Now that we’ve established you’re not dead…” he gestures vaguely in Tae’s direction.

Anakin whirls around so fast he gets _whiplash_ , dizziness rising enough that he stumbles into the other young man, who grimaces concernedly. He’s pretty sure he hears Cody snickering before he dips out of the room, leaving the two alone. Ignoring him, he pulls away from Tae to look at his face.

“Hi,” Tae says, just a touch dry.

Anakin just _blanks_.

Jabiim still feels like it was yesterday, sometimes. He remembers standing at the front lines with Tae and the other Padawans, sharing meals and tents like he would with the vode, and he _definitely_ remembers how quickly he and Tae came to know each other.

 _I want to hug him_ , he thinks, _but I don’t know if he_ —

Tae grins and taps his temple, which makes Anakin flush red. _Forgot, huh?_

Anakin ignores him and hugs him, reminded of their goodbye on Jabiim.

He _told_ Palpatine that he didn’t want to go, that he belonged _there_ , but he wouldn’t _listen_. Sure, the Chancellor had been worried about him but couldn’t he _trust him_ , just that one time? It was maybe the first time he realised his dear friend could make mistakes like that, like everyone else in his life. It was after that, after learning of Tae’s apparent death, that he decided not to ask for military advice from him. Or any advice, if his life was in danger.

Because he couldn’t help but think maybe he could’ve _saved_ Tae, if his friend hadn’t been so desperate to save his life. How many people died because of what Palpatine was willing to do for him?

Attachment, he’d realised, for the first time in his life. _That_ was what attachment meant.

And he’d wondered, not for the first time, if maybe _he_ might have done a similar thing trying to save his mother from the Tuskens, if Padmé hadn’t insisted on coming with him to find her.

(He’d realised, too, that caring for someone _wasn’t_ attachment, after he admitted to Obi-Wan that Tae was...important to him. Obi-Wan hugged him and told him that he knew. His former Master hugged him a lot more after that.)

 _You’re supposed to be_ dead _,_ Anakin thinks, more grief than anger.

“I know,” Tae whispers against his bare shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Falling into the old habit of telepathic communication is easy for both of them. Anakin struggles with telling others what he’s feeling, but Tae can read the thoughts off the top of his head without effort. Even better, Anakin gets a glimpse into _his_ thoughts, meaning he’s not eternally terrified of what Tae thinks of him. Admittedly, he always feels like people don’t tell him everything, that people are keeping him in the dark, but Tae never does that.

Meanwhile, Tae gets the benefit of Anakin’s stable miniature sun in the Force to tether him down. He used to use his uncle’s thoughts, but on Jabiim, latching onto Ani’s presence was more natural than _breathing_. It’s still the same now, he realises, a little bitter-sweetly.

Careful of his shattered shields, Tae pushes a memory at him.

He doesn’t share the various bodies of the Padawan Pack he and Elora had stood over or the wreckage of Jabiim. The memory he shares is of the heart-shattering relief he’d felt in the split second before he nearly died, when his uncle—his _dead_ uncle—had appeared to save him. He shares how unbalanced he was, unbalanced to his very core, something he didn’t think could be solved in the middle of the darkness that Coruscant is.

Some part of him is still scared that Anakin is mad.

But the waves of relief and understanding overwhelm that fear immediately. Anakin is _proud_ —proud of him for choosing what was good for himself. It’s something he doesn’t think he could do.

“You’re less angry than I remember,” Tae murmurs, half a joke.

Anakin snorts. “I went to therapy.”

Tae pulls back to look up at him—he’s still taller, damn him—with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And...I stopped talking to Palpatine as much. Not—not _entirely_ , obviously, but my mind healer pointed out that being friends with someone that has _that_ much power over the order is kind of...not great, especially since Obi-Wan is a Council member now.”

“Plus, he started that relationship when you were a _kid_ ,” Tae adds concernedly. It always sat weirdly with him.

“That too. I realised that I would never have let _Ahsoka_ be friends with someone as old as him and then I started wondering why Obi-Wan let _me_ and then, well, I realised that he probably didn’t have a _choice_ , because what do you do when the _Chancellor of the Republic_ asks to meet your Padawan?” He clears his throat, realising he’s rambling. “So. Yeah. I guess things are...better? Not great, but mentally, I’m not as much of a mess!”

Tae’s laughter makes Anakin grin, eyes brighter than they’ve been in a while.

“Me neither. The Outer Rim is way easier to deal with than Coruscant, have you noticed?” he asks, squinting.

Anakin shrugs. “Not really, but I believe you.” He looks around. “Where are we, anyway?”

He lights up. “Tatooine—your step-brother’s house, actually.”

“You’re kidding! Owen?” he asks. When Tae nods, he laughs, pure glee crossing his expression. “Shit, I haven’t called him in _months_. Where—?”

“Kitchen, with his girlfriend,” Tae replies, a silly smile on _his_ face.

Anakin grins again. “I’m gonna harass him into lending me a shirt.” To the unspoken question of whether he’ll follow or not, Tae nods.

“Just have to grab your meds and I’ll be there,” he says reassuringly.

Light on his feet as always, Anakin darts around him, moving to leave. He stops abruptly, pivoting back around to face Tae, who hums questioningly at the sudden buzz of consideration that the young Knight gives off. The slightest tinge of red on his cheeks, Anakin leans forward, presses a kiss to Tae’s cheek, and _speeds_ away, a bundle of _happy-relief-oh-Force-what-did-I-do_ in the Force.

Tae just...stands there. Gawking.

After a very long moment, he touches a hesitant hand to his cheek, still able to feel the warmth of the kiss.

And then, because he realises that Anakin can’t exactly keep anyone out of his head or memories right now, Tae buries his face in his hands. The others are _never_ going to let him live that down.

Snickering comes from an adjacent hall and he immediately groans.

“How much did you see?”

“Enough,” says Knol, overjoyed at his suffering as she enters. “Nice going, loverboy.”

“It was _a crush_ , I’m hardly in _love_ with _him_ —” Tae protests weakly.

Knol snorts. “You are so full of shit. All I’ve heard since your fake death is ‘oh, I wonder what Ani is up to’ and ‘I miss Ani, you guys are so annoying’ and now you’re telling me that wasn’t pining? You’re a liar.”

“Shut _up_ ,” he huffs, punching her arm. “I don’t _pine_.”

(Tae would never speak like this with a Temple Master, but his uncle’s companions are practically family. Knol, for example, is his wild aunt that he both loves and despises simultaneously because on the one hand, she lets him get away with everything, and on the other, she lets go of absolutely _nothing_.)

“I hate to break it to you, but touching the place where he kissed you is pining,” she goads.

“I’m _fucked_ ,” he declares elegantly, making her burst into snickers. “At first he was just _cute_ but now he’s _hot_. And he’s smart and stupid and I’m going to die.”

Knol pats his shoulder in false comfort. “I give it a week before he kisses you.”

Before Tae can speak, another voice chimes in. “I give it two.”

“ _Master_ ,” he whines.

Jon appears from the shadows, the smallest of teasing smiles on his face. “Between you two and Fay and Cody, we’re practically in a holo.”

“I don’t need this from _both of you_ ,” Tae says, crossing his arms. “I’m gonna go find Ani.”

“Good luck!” Knol calls after him as he leaves, snickering.

Jon chuckles, nudging Knol. “He could do with a little less harassment.”

“It’s teasing and it builds character,” she shoots back. “It certainly helped _you_ as a little Knight.”

He rolls his eyes—fondly, of course. “ _I_ had never been teased before. Tae has been putting up with it from us since he was a _child_.”

“Antilles, I adore you.” She puts her hands on his shoulders. “But I have waited _years_ for him to fall this badly for someone. Nothing will stop me.”

He laughs again, letting her drop her hands. “Fair enough.” Then, he pauses.

Knol raises a furry brow. “What?”

“I’ve never heard you and Nico fight like that,” he admits quietly. “Is everything alright?”

She sighs, glancing across the room to make sure Tae is completely gone. “We found something on Aria Prime and we have...different ideas on what to do with it.”

“It?” he asks.

Without speaking, the Bothan gestures for him to follow, leading the way down the hall and outside Owen’s home. There, Nico is speaking with Cody and Fay, who finished their meditation before Anakin awoke. However subconsciously, Fay is practically leaning on Cody, an action that makes Knol and Jon share a look.

“The general okay?” Cody asks the moment he spots them.

Knol grins like a proper Bothan, making everyone but Fay shudder. “Better than. Already turning Tae red.”

“Good,” Nico replies, amusement in his eyes.

“We were discussing the artefact,” Fay interrupts after chuckling at their collective Padawan’s misery. 

“Artifact?”

Nico tugs on a pair of gloves and lifts something from his bag with the Force, careful not to touch it or let anyone else get near it. It’s a small cube, like a Holocron, except it glows black, artistic edges carved in white. In the Force, it’s strong and...natural, oddly enough, like a nexus of power.

“That’s...weird,” Cody says immediately.

“Very,” Fay agrees, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at it. “And you found this in the Sith Temple?”

Cody frowns. “Sith have Temples?”

“They used to, quite frequently. But this doesn’t feel dark.” Nico spins it slightly. “Which is unlike a Sith artefact.”

“Perhaps it’s merely a Force artefact,” Jon suggests. “Natural, but dark if you choose to use it for dark things and vice versa.”

Knol hums. “Except we have no idea what it does.”

“Don’t tell Skywalker. He’ll touch it and find out,” Cody says dryly.

Fay huffs a half-laugh and then nods. “I don’t think we should tell either of them, for now, while we decide what to do with it.. With Anakin recovering and Tae tethered to him, the only Force signatures they’re exposed to should be light.”

“I agree,” Nico murmurs. “Ilum will be a particularly good place for their recovery.”

Cody raises an eyebrow. “Ilum?”

“You’ll see,” she says with a mischievous smirk.

He sighs. “I’m assuming learning to be vague and insufferable will be part of the training?”

“Absolutely, right after self-sacrifice and general lack of self-care,” Nico adds with an air of accusation, glancing pointedly at Jon.

The man only shrugs and seems to tuck himself further into his cloak.

“Uncle!”

As soon as the artefact appeared, it disappears into the folds of Nico’s cloak once more. Tae emerges from the hovel, Anakin in hand, which has Knol and Jon grinning again.

“Ah, Anakin Skywalker,” Nico says, holding out his hand, “I’ve heard all about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Anakin replies with a wince, shaking the older man’s hand.

Beside him, Knol laughs. “The best.”

The hood of her cloak goes flying over her head, but she just snickers at the blush on Tae’s cheeks.

“Excuse Knol, she has no filter,” Fay chuckles. “I’m Fay. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Anakin bows his head respectfully. “And you, Master. Obi-Wan’s told me all the stories, including the one where you, well, died. I guess I shouldn’t trust them?”

“That would be best. Master Yoda is a horrible old gossip, after all.”

He chokes a little at the idea of the _Grandmaster of the Order_ being called an old _gossip_ before Jon introduces himself and he’s distracted.

Cody nudges Fay while he’s busy. “Will he be coming with us?”

“I imagine he’ll want to, with Tae being here,” she says, amused. “But he should regardless. Dooku will be after him now, which is far more dangerous with the state of his shields.”

“Recovery will be good for him, I think,” he adds. “He can join me and Tae in training.”

Fay grins, all teeth. “That, my dear Cody, is an _excellent_ idea.”

“Oh no, it’s _brilliant_ ,” chimes in Knol, who has apparently been eavesdropping. “Time to break out the fire-breathing!”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Nico tries to protest, “you are _not_ teaching Tae to _breathe fire_ —”

Tae brightens. “Can Jon teach me to _teleport_?”

Anakin’s expression mimics his. “You can _teleport_!?” he asks, whirling on Jon, who looks terrified. “That’s karking insane! You _have_ to teach me!”

“Obi-Wan is never going to forgive you, you know that right?” Cody whispers to Fay as chaos breaks out.

She just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, Anakin getting therapy, avoiding the Tusken incident, and not talking to Palpatine as much does not mean I’m going to leave his issues at that. He still has some anger issues and struggles with his identity as a Jedi, so we will get into all that terrible, terrible mess at some point or another, I promise :)  
> (Sorry for the late update! My entire house has been infected with Covid (a weak strain, thankfully) and I have next to no symptoms but with my medical condition, seasonal allergies, etc. I'm Fucking Dying today.)

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: This was MEANT to be a one-shot but. Do I know where this is going? No. Is that going to stop me? Also no.


End file.
